


Basilisk Pox

by MissMora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arithmancer Hermione Granger, F/M, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, No Angst, No Weasley Bashing, Pandemics, Potions Master Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28155150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMora/pseuds/MissMora
Summary: When a new illness starts to spread in the Wizarding World almost a decade after the war, it's up to the newly appointed Potions Master and Head of Slytherin Draco Malfoy and the Arithmancy Professor Hermione Granger to figure out a solution—and the source.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy threw the letter from his mother on the table. His instinctual reaction was to completely refuse the suggestion or avoid responding altogether. But, he had to admit, teaching Potions at Hogwarts would have its benefits. 

It wasn’t that he hated his current position in France; he had enjoyed the relative solitude and excellent food. It was more that he wanted something different. He needed some variety in his life. And being the Head of House for a bunch of beleaguered Slytherins would definitely give him some variety.

Draco headed outside to clear his head. The sun was bright, the sky blue, the clouds white, all an idyllic picture enticing him to stay in France. Here, no one hated him for the name he hadn’t chosen. He could also pretend, for the most part, that the war had never happened. He could even pretend that he had learned French while spending a pleasant childhood here--rather than learning it in a house that he never felt truly comfortable enough to call home. He still felt like an outsider there, and chances are, he would feel that way wherever he went. Even back at Hogwarts.

At Hogwarts, there were Slytherins that still felt like outsiders, even despite the changes made after the war. If he went, he could do something about them. He could stop them from feeling abandoned before it sunk in too deep. That, he decided, was a cause worth fighting for.

* * *

The interview with the Headmistress was scheduled for the Monday following the Leaving Feast. Draco supposed he could have gotten an international portkey and visited home prior to the meeting, but he wasn’t quite up for facing his mother. Instead, McGonagall had gotten permission for an international Floo connection. This had made it significantly easier for Draco to arrive on time.

"Good morning, Headmistress," Draco said politely as he stepped out of the fireplace.

"Good morning to you as well," Her cheer seemed much out of place for this time of the morning. McGonagall gestured to the chair in front of her desk. Draco sat down, accepting the cup of tea she extended to him. 

"I'm quite glad that you've decided to apply,” McGonagall started. “To be honest, we haven't had very many applicants, and of the ones we have had, none of them were willing to be Head of Slytherin."

"Is it necessary for the Potions Master to be head of Slytherin as well?" he asked.

“Not as such, but they're the two vacancies we need filled, and it'd be strange for the Head to not teach any classes at all, especially if they were new to the school."

"Don't you have former Slytherins as professors on staff?"

"Yes," she frowned, "Both of the Greengrass sisters are here, but neither of them feels up to the task. Professor Quirke was a Slytherin as well, but she only teaches N.E.W.T. students, and due to the amount of research she does for her subject, she doesn’t think it wise for her to step into the role either."

"Is being the Slytherin Head that difficult?" Draco asked with concern.

McGonagall sighed. "Despite the war being over, it's still hard for people to get past some of their opinions of Slytherin. As a result, the kids have a much more difficult time in school. Professor Slughorn, was, unfortunately, rather incompetent in his role; he spent more time with those he believed had future value and had very little patience for those he deemed unlikely to succeed. The Slytherins have felt unworthy for a very long time." 

She then turned and looked up at him more directly. "I think you know exactly what that feels like, and thus you know exactly what these students need."

* * *

Draco’s first staff meeting was unexpectedly overwhelming. He remembered his mother and McGonagall saying there had been some new courses added, but he observed that the professor count had nearly doubled. 

Of the old guard, Flitwick had stepped down as head of Ravenclaw to become the Deputy Headmaster (less bias in helping resolve school issues, the small man had explained), and was summarily replaced by Lovegood (who had also taken over teaching Charms after apprenticing under Flitwick). Sprout, who was head of Hufflepuff, still taught the N.E.W.T. classes, and Sinistra still taught Astronomy. It seemed Hooch was around, but Draco remembered hearing that Weaselette was teaching flying, so he wasn’t sure how that was working. 

The rest were within five years of his age (at least he thought; there was definitely an older Weasley in the room, but it wasn't as if he kept track of their ages). It felt strange--like a pair of new shoes that fit him fine, but needed to be worn in first to be comfortable. How was he supposed to imagine Longbottom as a Head of House when he still remembered the man as an inept boy? 

A man with unremarkable brown hair and plain brown eyes walked up to him and extended a hand. "Welcome to the staff! I'm Kevin Entwhistle. Ravenclaw, your year. Most of us are, I suppose...In our year, that is."

Draco shook Entwhistle's hand, wary as always that someone would regret associating with him. "You must be the science teacher McGonagall, Minerva, was saying I'd be working with."

"The very same! I want to integrate my classes a bit more with Potions, at least when it gets to the elective years, since you don't teach first and second years anyway. But I do want to integrate some basics of chemistry in the early years, and I'm hoping that will help them grasp potions concepts sooner rather than later, especially since they don't start classes right away."

Draco needed Entwhistle to stop and breathe so that he could make a polite escape, but it didn't look like that was going to happen.

"Of course, I did take some pedagogy studies at university, since I've always wanted to teach, but I never thought that attending a non-magical school would bring me back to Hogwarts, but magic is a strange and wonderful thing. I love giving kids from magic-focused households the chance to experience some of the 'magic' so to speak of the non-magical world. And I feel like it's really helping."

A light voice floated in between Entwhistle's sentences. "Hello, Draco."

Draco looked at Lovegood in relief. "Good morning, Professor Lovegood."

"Oh, it's just Luna. To everyone, really. Having one name makes it easier to avoid wrackspurts.” Entwhistle snorted. "I'm so sorry, Kevin, you must have caught my cold," she added.

Draco suppressed a smile as the exhausting man walked away. "You had excellent timing," he nodded to her.

"Most people aren't who he wants them to be." She tilted her head. "I think he hopes you're the missing piece."

"Do you have any advice for a new Head of House?" he asked, ignoring her comment regarding Entwhistle

Luna looked in his eyes as she thought and he shifted at the attention. "You should emulate the positives of your godfather. He had some good in his heart, and you want all the good you can spare for this sort of thing. You should also keep an extra pair of slippers in your office."

Draco frowned. "Why would I need those?"

"Because some people are cruel to those who don't seem to understand cruelty. Welcome to Hogwarts," she added with a wave farewell.

Two conversations into this gathering and he was already dreading the upcoming school year.

He made his way to Minerva, who was, quite thankfully, alone. "I have things I need to complete to settle in," he said by way of greeting, "but I wanted to speak with you before absconding."

"I'm quite glad you're here," she smiled. "And I don't blame you at all for wanting to retire. You'll have plenty of opportunities to chat with the other professors as the year goes by. Let me know if there's anything lacking in your quarters as far as space goes; I can always ask Hogwarts to move things around a bit," she winked. "Otherwise, I think your elf should be able to take care of most other needs."

Draco nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Draco," her voice softening, "Thank you for applying. The students need you, and we're all glad you're here."

"Of course," he smiled. He didn't believe they were all glad he was here, but he would have a few allies. 

* * *

To Draco’s surprise and relief, he wasn't accosted by anyone else as he returned to his quarters. Severus had his in the dungeons, right next to his private lab. Draco, on the other hand, preferred sunlight, and thus had his quarters in one of the towers. There was, however, a door that led from his private sitting room to a private lab, as well as a separate door that led to his dungeon office to facilitate visits from his Slytherins. Perhaps the Slytherins should move up to the tower as well, he mused, as he stepped into his room.

Contrary to all that his family and House stood for, Draco’s favorite color was actually a rich dark blue, meaning that the coloring of his new room was absolutely perfect. It looked better suited to a Ravenclaw professor, but Draco didn’t mind as long as he felt comfortable. The welcoming blues and browns calmed his lingering anxiety from the gathering, making it easier for him to settle back in. 

The anxiety he had collected as a battle scar was frustrating. It was as if he was constantly walking through the Forbidden Forest. He knew that there were dangerous things in there, but more often than not, his brain assumed a tree or a bush was a threat. It was easier when there were fewer trees around him, like he felt when alone in his rooms, rather than with more trees, as he had been a few minutes earlier. 

The Hogwarts of his memories, the good ones, anyways, was relatively quiet and homey. In the early years, he hadn’t needed to worry nearly so much about the politics of things. He had just repeated what his dad had always said. Draco regretted most of those things now. In the present, there were more unknowns, more people, and more fake threats.

His chest started tightening, and he began to list potions ingredients and their properties in his head, focusing on them one at a time until the feeling passed. His Master had fought in the war against Grindelwald and had taught Draco more than just potions. He was grateful for the technique, but was frustrated that he had to have the technique to begin with. 

Draco got up from the chair he had slumped into a few minutes earlier, and made his way to the small kitchenette attached to his rooms. It had been something he had asked Minerva before he had moved in. There was something calming about making things with his hands that he had never gotten to take advantage of as a child—except for in Potions class. He loved brewing his own tea, and, though he would never admit it to anyone, he had a marvelous cookie recipe.

* * *

The next month went by in a blur as Draco prepared for his classes. He’d had a few conversations with various professors over meals, but he generally ate in his room and avoided everyone else, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the Headmistress. 

It was rather understandable, given that Draco had to assess what the previous teachers had been instructing, approximate comprehension levels (facilitated by the previous year’s exam papers), and then complete lesson plans for five years of students. He was quite grateful he didn’t have the first and second years. 

The N.E.W.T. students usually worked on self-guided projects their seventh year, while the sixth year students worked with more difficult potions, including ones that incorporated charms or were restricted for various reasons. 

Creating a lesson plan for the other years was a bit more challenging. He could plan a curriculum for all three years, but the fourth and fifth years might be at a disadvantage for not having been in the full three year curriculum. That was his current plan, since he could always put the fourth and fifth years back on track.

Regardless, he spent a significant amount of time in his room or in his private lab. He had to get his supplies requirements out to Minerva prior to the second week of July so that she could send them off to the students with their final grades. This meant working within those requirements and not changing them just because it might be a tiny bit better to teach a potion a different way.

* * *

Draco was surprisingly nervous for his first Sorting as a professor and Head of House. It was these new first years that he would have perhaps the biggest impact, as they would know no other Head. He wouldn’t be teaching them for a few years yet, but he wanted to be sure that their House was viewed as a surrogate family while they were here. 

The class size was about as small as his graduating year’s. Given that these children would have been born during Voldemort’s second (short, but horrible) reign of terror, it wasn’t surprising to him that parents hadn’t wanted to bring children into a war. According to Minerva, this year’s class also had the biggest percentage of Muggleborns Hogwarts had seen in awhile; Minerva had speculated that the innate magic of the universe was trying to compensate for fewer wizarding children, which Draco admitted wasn’t too far of a stretch.

He couldn’t tell who the Muggleborns were just by looking at the group of children. Even children from wizarding families got nervous just before the Sorting. It was always a gamble of whether or not they wanted to be in the House that their whole family had been in, and then even more of a gamble as to how their families would react. As far as Draco knew, none of the students from this year were from Death Eater families, something he was extremely grateful for. He knew there were a few in the upper years, but children shouldn’t have to be exposed to that kind of prejudice that soon in life.

The Sorting ended up with four girls and three boys in Slytherin, far fewer than any other House took in. It seemed that the children had an anti-Slytherin bias which led them to talk the Sorting Hat out of placing them in a den of snakes. It made Draco even more committed to taking care of his charges.

Draco met with the Prefects prior to dinner and asked them to direct all Slytherins to the common room. Severus had typically only met with the first years after the Sorting, but given Draco’s new position, it seemed important to address everyone. 

The faces of the students showed everything from admiration to disgust, with a little bit of confusion in the middle. Despite knowing that this wouldn’t be an easy task, he couldn’t help thinking about how difficult this was going to be. Especially since he didn’t quite have Severus’ gravitas.

“I am Professor Malfoy,” he began. “I will be the new Potions professor, as well as your Head of House. I understand that there hasn’t been anyone that’s stayed particularly long in this position since Professor Slughorn retired for a second time five years ago, but I am promising that as long as it is in my control, I will be staying in this position. 

“The first rule in Slytherin House is that there will be no infighting outside of this dormitory. Outside of it, you will stick up for one another. This does not mean hexing everyone, but it does mean protecting your own from bullying. If you have a bone to pick with a fellow Slytherin, you do it in private, not in public.

“The second rule is to be proud of who you are. Slytherins are not evil, nor are they uncaring. Slytherins constantly strive for more—a potential for downfall, but also a potential for strength. You should seek for more knowledge, more understanding, and more strength. Learn how to fight with words as well as your wand.

“As matters of business go: there is a door to my office located just down the hall from these rooms. While I may not respond immediately, I am available to access at nearly any time. Should situations arise where I am not available for you, you should seek out Professor Flitwick, and if he is unavailable, one of the other Heads of House. All of them have committed to protecting and caring for our students.

“If you have any further questions, please ask your Prefects.”

He nodded at all of them before making his escape. His heart beat heavily in his chest. He wasn’t terribly anxious, not yet at least, but he wanted to get back to his room before it got too bad. After all, he still had to get through the first day of classes.

* * *

As he stood at the front of his first Potions class of the year, Draco felt no compunction about stealing his godfather’s introduction to Potions, albeit with a few slight modifications of his own. 

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. "As there is little wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory,” he paused as the students leaned in very slightly, “even stopper death.”

The third years were more impressionable then they themselves believed they were. “Professor Entwhistle’s class has been an introduction of sorts to you. I believe he has taught you something of lab safety, which is even more paramount in these classes, given the ingredients we use. There is a much greater capacity for damage with a much smaller slip-up than many of you think possible. Thus, you will have very little leeway in this class.” 

He tried to look as stern as he remembered Severus being. 

“I will not tolerate tardiness, nor absences in my class without a good reason—the quality of reasoning to be determined by myself. Uniform pants will be required for both males and females, as well as close-toed and close-topped shoes—no Mary Janes allowed. Robes will not be worn during class hours, but will instead be hung near the exit of the classroom when you arrive. Uniform long sleeves should be worn, even during warm weather. Hair must be tied back if it falls to your shoulders or longer.

“You will have noticed that gloves were not on your list. Potions, in some aspects, is more like cooking than it is non-magical chemistry. As such, gloves would interfere with your ability to precisely prepare and add the ingredients. We will, however, be using eye protection.”

He paused again, watching to see if any of his instructions were sinking in. “I may be lenient for the first week regarding these instructions, but beginning next week, you must attend all class periods prepared as if you were going to brew. Our schedule may change on occasion; if you are not dressed prepared to brew, then you will receive an incomplete on the assignment until you follow up with me to brew the potion out of class on your own time and on my time. The more frequent you do so, the more likely I am to take copious amounts of points from you.

“I am making these requirements because I have the utmost care for you and your safety. My own student days were filled with many scenarios that could have been prevented or ameliorated by simple safety measures like these. This is not a class where roughhousing or back-talk will be tolerated. There are things that we will do that, unlike almost any other class, have the potential to kill you.” He saw a raised hand. “You are?”

“Winder, sir. Andy Winder. If the things we do here can kill us, then why are we taking these classes when we’re only thirteen? It seems like we shouldn’t be doing this sort of stuff until we’re more likely to take it seriously.”

Draco smiled. “You’re from a non-magical household, Winder?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When I was a student, Hogwarts actually taught Potions in our first year.” The children he suspected were Muggleborn gasped. “It wasn’t until after Professor McGonagall became Headmistress that she rearranged things a little bit.” 

He continued, “The real reason we start early on Potions is complex. First, you need ample time to become accustomed to Potions before you decide whether you’re committed to taking the N.E.W.T. or even the O.W.L. for it. Second, it’s good to have a sense of what kind of things you’ll encounter later in the magical world. Most of you aren’t taking Herbology as an elective, and even if you do sample it this year, there’s not a high likelihood you’ll continue to take it the two years after that. Requiring Potions means you get exposure to potentially dangerous substances so that you can learn how to avoid them or work with them. You also need to learn why you shouldn’t mix potions together. 

“Mr. Winder, are there non-magical medications that should not be taken at the same time?”

“Yes, sir. A lot of cold medicines and paracetamol can’t be taken together.”

“And, you,” he nodded to the boy next to Andy who hadn’t been surprised by Potions being taught so early, ‘are there potions that shouldn’t be taken together?”

“Calming Draught and Invigoration Draught, sir.” 

“And your name?”

“Calvin Booth.”

“Most of you learn from your parents what things should not mix, whether magical or non-magical. We go over the magical things, since that’s what many of you will be consuming throughout your lives. Even those of you that are from magical homes aren’t likely to know all of the interactions that we’ll be learning about through to your fifth year.

“Potions can be dangerous, yes, but as long as you’re willing to take the proper precautions, you will keep yourself, your classmates, and me safe. I don’t doubt you’ll be able to do so. Proving me wrong will result in disastrous consequences beyond ruined potions. Is that clear?” The students nodded. “Any more questions?”

He fielded a few more simple ones about the things they would be learning over the year, until one student that he could sense was going to cause significantly more trouble later asked a particularly pointed question: “Aren’t you a Death Eater?”

The room froze and Draco felt the anxiety building in his chest. He was over this—had been over this—knew this was coming—anticipated dealing with this—but now it was actually happening, and it felt entirely different.

_Abraxan hair. Aconite. Acromantuala venom._

“What is your name?”

“Damian Barnes, sir.”

_Adder’s fork. African red pepper. African sea salt. Agrippa. Alihotsy._

“Mr. Barnes, what is your reasoning for asking that question? Do you really think it is pertinent to my ability to teach this class?”

Barnes stood his ground. “Of course, because if you were a Death Eater, that would mean you were evil and that you didn’t actually care about keeping us safe. I bet you only came back to teach just to get rid of us all.”

Draco glared at the young boy and was slightly pleased to note many of the boy’s classmates doing the same. “Mr. Barnes, that will be fifty points from Gryffindor, detention for the next month, and a meeting with the Headmistress and myself immediately following tonight’s dinner. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded, his face still set.

_Angel’s trumpet. Anjelica. Antimony. Armadillo bile._

Draco breathed in deeply. “I believe you have covered the Second Wizarding War in your Magical History and Culture classes prior to this year. I did, in fact, take the Dark Mark,” he said as he briefly pushed up his sleeve. “However, I did not do so out of hatred of all who weren’t pure blood, nor did I do so because I wanted to follow Voldemort. I did so because I believed I had no other choice to protect my family. I am not proud of what I did, but I believe people can change, given the chance.” He looked pointedly at Barnes. “I will not be discussing my past any further than this.”

_Arnica. Ashwinder egg. Asphodel._


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione picked at her food, while holding the two week old Albus Potter. “It’s weird having Malfoy around again,” she said with a sigh. “I can’t get how he used to act out of my head, even though I know he’s different now.”

Ginny nodded. “It feels like we’re back in school again, doesn’t it?”

“I mean, I know most of the teachers are our age, but we’ve been growing up with them.”

“Plus none of them seemed particularly evil in school.”

“Right, and I don’t know what he’s like now, so I end up filling in the gaps with what I used to know about him.”

Harry came in from putting James down for bed and added, “You could always get to know him now. He’s a decent guy.”

Hermione snorted. “Yes, but that would involve talking to him, and he never seems to be in the mood for that.”

Al started to stir, prompting Hermione to put down her fork and start rocking him. 

Harry sat down at the table, serving himself the salad in front of them. “It’s his first week, ‘Mione, give him a break. He’s probably stressed and tired. Maybe sit by him at a staff meeting and ask him about how things are going. And,” he pointed his fork at her, “He is not evil, so don’t keep acting like he is. That’s not going to make things go any better.”

“Alright,” she sighed. “I’ll try.”

Ginny reached over and took Al from Hermione’s arms, adding, “What’s the worst he could do? Hex you? You know how to defend yourself, and if he did anything truly terrible, he would probably get fired.”

“When did you guys become the mature ones?” she groaned good-naturedly. They shrugged. Hermione slipped her plates onto the kitchen counter, and gathered up her things. “I should get going,” she said as she hugged Harry and Ginny goodbye and kissed Al on his head. “I have a crazy Saturday night to enjoy.”

Crazy Saturday night meant reading by the fire, and she had been looking forward to it. She wasn’t responsible for any rounds this evening, and she had already caught up on grading. She wrapped her blanket around her. Her book was as well worn as the rest in the series. Even the familiarity wasn’t enough to keep her attention, as she kept thinking about Malfoy. 

What did she know about him anyways?

She knew he had become a Death Eater under duress and in an attempt to protect himself and his parents. That had come out during his trial.

He hadn’t actually killed Dumbledore, even though he had been ordered to do so.

And he had also hesitated when asked to identify them, potentially saving their lives.

For all of that, he had been given house arrest for three years. She knew his mother hadn’t been given any sentence, due to both her lie to Voldemort, and the fact that she hadn’t had much of a say in her home being used as a villain’s lair. His father, on the other hand, had received a life sentence in Azkaban—one he couldn’t pay his way out of, since most of his money had been confiscated by the Ministry for reparations.

Beyond that, she knew he had been in France since his release and had earned his Potions Mastery at some point.

And that was the sum of what she knew about Draco Malfoy. 

Harry was right. Malfoy probably was a decent guy. He probably didn’t even care about her, wouldn’t even give her a second thought, and certainly wasn’t spending his Saturday night wondering precisely what shade of grey she was.

* * *

It had been a strange shift for Hermione to focus on teaching, rather than learning. Her limited tutoring experience had been mostly her trying to convince Ron and Harry to study, with occasional essay reviews, so it didn’t exactly endear her to the idea.

However, apprenticing under Mistress Vector meant shadowing and occasionally leading her classes. Mistress Vector was a proponent of teaching as a means of learning, even if it was a review of the basics. It was in doing so that Hermione realized she loved helping students have moments of clarity. Watching the seventh years design their own projects helped her learn new things, and sometimes the students taught her better ways of explaining concepts.

Monday’s first class was fifth years. While she would spend some time reviewing third and fourth year material, most of the year was spent building on the groundwork of the previous years in preparation for the O.W.Ls. .

Week two of school brought new topics and theories to discuss. Arithmancy had always reminded her a bit of non-magical maths, and she was grateful that Minerva had decided to pair the times up. She had decided to split the time with Penelope Clearwater. Students attended Arithmancy on Mondays, and Maths on Thursday. 

Arithmancy was designed to calculate things with certainty, provided that you knew all of the variables. Figuring out the precise variables was the difficult part. Most of the equations she provided the students with had relatively obvious variables, at least, they were obvious compared to her Mastery studies. Calculating the results of a potion was one of the typical equations, and that was what she was starting with today.

“Who here is familiar with the Draught of Peace?” Most of her students from magical homes raised their hands. “This is typically an O.W.L. potion, so you will most likely be brewing it this year.” She made a mental note, realizing that this was something she could start a conversation with Malfoy about. “You may also end up taking it yourselves this year, given that several fifth-years manage to work themselves up enough to need it.

“The Draught of Peace is intended to relieve anxiety, but if prepared wrong, it can put the drinker of the potion into a deep and possibly irreversible sleep. I have written the instructions for the potion on the board, and we’re going to start with building the equation for a properly prepared potion. Your homework will be to alter the equation to find precisely what error would lead to the potentially disastrous side effects.”

The rest of the class period was spent constructing the equation, creating separate formulas for ingredients, amounts and preparation; order of composition; and preparation techniques that included the type of cauldron and stirring rod as well as number of stirs needed in various directions. It was certainly more difficult than anything they had done to this point, but she figured it was a good litmus test to see how far they could get. 

This year, they seemed about average, Hermione providing the answers herself for half of the equation, with the students being able to add the other half. All in all, she found it a relative success that they’d retained something over the summer break. 

* * *

Staff meetings were a necessary evil of schools. It was extremely difficult to find a decent time to have one, since teachers would often be supervising detentions, patrolling the halls, or very much not in the mood to attend said meetings. Minerva had still felt that they were important, but in acknowledgement of the struggle, mostly only met one on one with the staff members in her office over the course of the day. The rest of the time, teachers were encouraged to spend their time in the staff room. 

Hermione enjoyed Wednesdays. All of the years except for fifth and seventh spent their mornings in a weekly class, while the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students camped out in The Great Hall for tutoring and study sessions. Afternoons were filled with study time for everyone, which students had quickly learned to actually use for studying. On days she wasn’t responsible for helping in any of the study halls, she usually graded papers in the staff room, at least for part of the day.

Today, she hoped, would be the day she finally had a decent conversation with Malfoy.

He didn’t quite slink into the room, nor did he swagger, or saunter, or any of the walking words Hermione could think of that began with “s.” It was almost as if he existed into the room. It wasn’t a sudden appearance—more that he wasn’t there, and then he was, and it was the most natural thing in the world. Malfoy looked a bit worn as she watched him grab coffee from the side table. He glanced around to see what spots were available before joining Hermione at her table. “How are you doing?” she asked politely.

He grimaced as he took a sip. “I am finally understanding why my godfather was as grumpy as he was. I can’t imagine spending more than a decade putting up with students.”

“It’s really that bad?” she asked with some sympathy.

“I’m just grateful that third years have a bit more sense than first years, but they do seem less inclined to listen to me the first time. That year has had a melted cauldron a week, and we only meet in the lab once a week.”

“And now I’m quite grateful that my subject is significantly less volatile.”

“What are you teaching?” he asked as he peered at her papers.

“Arithmancy.”

“Hm.” He went back to gazing into his coffee. It was silent for a few minutes before he spoke again. “Your hair is less bushy.”

She didn’t look up from her grading. “New hair products. Your hair is still slick.”

“Same hair products. I bet you’re dying to run your hands through it.”

That made her look up to meet his eyes, a challenge held in them. “I have no fantasies about running my hands through your hair. And for your sake, I genuinely hope that it doesn’t become as greasy as Professor Snape’s.”

“Oh, please, as if a little grease would limit my attractiveness,” he smiled

“The female students have certainly noticed that.”

He glared at her. “I’m not going to take advantage of them. It doesn’t help that the seventh years are some of the most incompetent students, simply because they’ve had inadequate teachers for their Potions classes up to this point.”

“I wasn’t accusing you.”

“I’m not oblivious to it. I can deal with them having a crush on a teacher, but any time they start crossing lines, I’m sending them to Minerva to handle.”

“I can’t imagine having them serve detention with you would decrease the ardor.”

“No, it would not.” Draco finished up his coffee and stood to leave. “Well, Granger, thank you for the adequate conversation and the judgment regarding my habits of romancing students.”

Hermione stared at him as he left. 

* * *

Tuesdays, Hermione had decided, were very bad days to have a birthday. It was awkward celebrating the weekend before, and it was awkward celebrating the weekend after. With some persuading of colleagues, she had managed to get out of monitoring study hall, and she wasn’t scheduled to help with the fourth year’s magical application seminar this week, nor was she responsible for the study and tutor sessions the fifth and seventh years had each week. She wasn't even scheduled to lecture on ethics to the third years. All of this added up to exactly zero work for her the following day, so she could have as much fun as she wanted on Tuesday night.

Her friends, on the other hand, had responsibilities the following day, which, perhaps, was the disadvantage to only being friends with other professors at the same school. Anything she did with them would be relatively tame (even more so with Harry and Ginny), so if she wanted to throw herself a proper twenty-seventh birthday party, it was going to be a small one. 

Dinner would be eaten in the Great Hall with the rest of the school, since she didn’t want a significant chunk of them missing for the students to wreak havoc. Honestly, she was glad she had enough friends to say that kind of thing. It was a far cry from the very lonely twelfth birthday she’d had her first year at Hogwarts. 

Instead of a shared dinner, Hermione had planned a small open house type mingle in the staff room. People could come and go, free to snack on the desserts and snacks she had already arranged with the house elves (who were perfectly happy without S.P.E.W. she had learned after a few nights visiting with them in the kitchens). The Floo in the staff room would also be opened up to some of their friends from outside the school, and she was looking forward to seeing everyone.

The one person she didn’t think about until he arrived was Malfoy. She was standing with Fred and George when he walked in with some minor hesitation, a green and silver wrapped gift in his hand. Hermione made her way over to him, meeting his eyes as she got closer. “It’s good to see you,” she smiled, attempting to practice what Harry had suggested. Evil people didn’t give her presents, after all.

He nodded at her politely. “Happy birthday, Granger.” He handed her the present. “You don’t have to open it right now.”

“I’ll save it for later, then,” she replied. “Are you a fan of chocolate?”

“Milk or dark?”

“Dark, of course,” she laughed. “Milk chocolate is barely chocolate at all. There’s cake over on the table, if you’d like some.”

Malfoy returned a smile. “I’d love to. Thank you for the invitation.”

She gave a small wave in parting as she moved to the hidden present table (no need to make anyone feel guilty for not bringing something that wasn’t requested anyways), not mentioning that she had invited the entire staff, mostly out of courtesy. “Is he treating you well?” Fred asked, coming up from behind her, eyes tracking Malfoy.

“We can always test out one of our new products on him,” George added.

“One of the hair color ones.”

“Nearly impossible to get out.”

“Unless you have our color-reversing potion.”

“Wonderful thing, that. Keeps us in business.”

Hermione laughed. “No, no need. He’s been quite civil, and both Harry and Ginny keep reminding me that he’s not a bad person, and that he’s probably changed as much in the last eight years as I have.”

“Still,” George replied. “Him not being evil doesn’t mean he’s not a git.”

She held up the present he had given her. “I don’t think bad people give good people presents.”

“When you end up with ink on your face,” Fred warned, “don’t blame us!”

She rolled her eyes as she put the present down. It was an impressive wrapping job, and she wondered if he had done it himself. 

“Hermione,” a voice called out of the crowd. 

“Ron!” she exclaimed.

“Happy birthday,” he said, giving her a hug. “Couldn’t pass up a chance to visit my nephew, and your birthday was a good excuse.”

She gave him a gentle nudge. “Obviously Al is significantly more entertaining than I am.”

“I didn’t bring him a present, though. Just you.”

“How’s coaching going?”

“Better than last year. I’ve been enjoying it more than I did as a Keeper. Not much strategy in ‘keep balls from going through the hoops.’ I heard Malfoy’s back,” he added, looking around.

“Yes, I invited him. I was inviting all of the teachers and it seemed rude to exclude him.”

“Not that he hasn’t been rude to you before. I distinctly remember vomiting slugs because of something rude he said.”

“First of all, that was like fifteen years ago. Second of all, you were the one that shot off a hex with a broken wand.”

“I feel like my point still stands.”

“Harry and Ginny both think I should try to be nicer and not assume he’s out to get all of us. So, I’m trying. I haven’t had a whole lot of time to speak to him, though, since it’s his first year here and still adjusting. Don’t start anything with him tonight, okay?”

“Wasn’t planning on it. I’m going to go find something to eat.”

Hermione smiled. “I’m surprised you hadn’t already. I’m pretty sure Charlie stopped by if you want to see him.” Ron nodded and headed off towards the food.

Before she had a moment to breathe, Kevin Entwhistle had walked up next to her. “You guys are still friends then?”

Hermione jumped slightly and had her hand on her wand before she realized it was him. “Yes, we’re still friends.”

Entwhistle gave a hum of response. “Well, happy birthday!” he smiled brightly, changing the subject. “I did bring you something, but I wasn’t quite sure where to put it, so I thought it’d be best if I just handed it to you myself.”

“Thank you,” she said as she accepted it. “I’ll put it over here with the others.”

“Or, you could open it now,” Entwhistle said with what Hermione felt like was a whine. “Spreads out the happiness,” he continued, “so that you aren’t overwhelmed by it all at the end of the night. Besides, I would love to see your face when you open it.”

It took all Hermione had to not groan out loud. “Alright, I’ll open it here,” she complied. She slid her fingers between the tape and the wrapping, sliding the paper free with as little mess as she could manage. “Oh, you finally got your book published,” she said with excitement she hoped didn’t sound feigned.

“I did! And I signed this copy for you special. There’s a note inside too, but you don’t have to read that right now. In fact, you should probably save that for later. But I’m so excited for you to read it, especially since you seemed interested in it whenever I talked to you about it. I’m so glad you like it!”

Hermione nodded. “Thank you for thinking of me. I’m sure it was a lot of work to put together.” Before he had a chance to respond, James had run into her knees. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Professor, but I should probably bring this little one back to his parents. Thank you for the gift,” she smiled, setting the book down on the table and picking James up, letting him play with the discarded paper as she walked towards Ginny.

“Thank you for sending James over,” Hermione smiled at Ginny, casting a quick  _ Muffliato _ around them. 

“That is exactly what children are for--getting you and your friends out of things you don’t want to be doing,” she laughed. “What did he give you this year?”

“His newly published book,” Hermione said as Ginny rolled her eyes, “with a lengthy note in it, apparently.”

“This would be much less of a problem if you just rejected him,” Ginny pointed out.”

“Except, he hasn’t actually asked me out yet. He could just be over friendly. I didn’t ever interact with him in school, and he’s only been here a year, so I don’t know for sure what he’s thinking.”

Ginny shrugged, taking James from Hermione’s arms. “We’ll be here to provide an escape until you do.”

Unsurprisingly, the party had slowed down by nine thirty, so Hermione had the house elves take the presents to her room. She gave a last thank-you to the remaining few friends and left.

The stack of cards was the largest, but the majority of them were simple, pre-written ones with words like “I don’t need to ‘spell’ out how great a witch you are” or “Birthdays only come once a year—unless you have a Time-Turner” and she didn’t keep most of them.

The first gift she picked up was from Harry and Ginny. At this point, they knew her well enough to not just get her a book every year. (She did, if asked, like books, but always appreciated creativity when it came to presents.) This year, Ginny had invited her on a trip for part of Christmas break to visit France. 

Fred and George had started selling Amortentia-laced candles that didn’t make you fall in love with anyone, but did make your home smell like the things you loved. They’d given her one of those, in addition to a pen that only wrote insulting corrections that Professor Snape would be proud of.

Ron, like every year before, had gotten her a book. This year’s edition was “Bludgers and Brooms: A Guide to Spell-Casting in Quidditch” which was another attempt to help her to enjoy Quidditch. It was definitely a good thing they weren’t still together.

There were a few other simple things, including a new pair of winter gloves, a few books she had been wanting to read, but she was most excited about opening Malfoy’s present. It was almost too well-wrapped to want to open, but her curiosity won out. 

Inside was a small, otter-embossed, leather journal. The card placed on top read, “To: Hermione Granger, who has more thoughts than her head knows what to do with.”


	3. Chapter 3

#  Chapter 3 -

**DEADLY VIRUS LEAVES TWO DEAD, FIVE SICK**

_ A virus of unknown origin has begun infecting the magical community. Information from St. Mungo’s is still forthcoming. However, we did obtain a statement from the chief Healer: _

“We would advise all witches and wizards to stay home as much as possible. We do not know enough about this illness to know how it spreads or how to treat it.”

_ What will all of this mean for the wizarding community? Unlike Muggles, our population is much healthier and much more resistant to disease, so is this actually a viral infection as the Healers claim, or is it simply a potion or curse gone awry? Is this the work of a new Dark Lord, or is it nature taking its course?  _

_ It is yet to be seen as to whether this is worth a panic, but this writer might just stay home regardless. _

Draco glanced up from his paper to see the students talking in a panic. He glanced at Minerva who had pursed her lips. She stood where she was at the breakfast table, attracting the attention of some of the students. 

“Students,” she announced, “this news, is, of course, quite concerning. We will keep you updated on what the situation means for you as it continues, but in the meantime, Hogwarts is a safe place for you. Classes will continue as normal, but Hogsmeade visits will be put on hold for the time being.”

Minerva turned to the rest of the staff. “Does everyone have a few minutes to spare to discuss this?” She was met with nods. “Good. I’ll have the Head Boy and Girl keep an eye on everyone in here until we’re finished.”

“Is there really no other information?” Granger asked as soon as they’d all sat down.

Minerva shook her head. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Entwhistle spoke up, “How are they planning on containing it? Because if it’s anything like a Muggle virus, quarantine is the safest way of keeping the spread limited.”

“As I said,” Minerva sighed, “I don’t have any more information. There’s a possibility that we may not even be able to have the students go home for Christmas.” The room was depleted of oxygen as everyone gasped. She held a hand up. “I’m not saying we will. I’m just saying that it’s possible.”

* * *

Draco was extremely glad that Mondays were typically lecture days, rather than lab days. It was going to be hard enough for them to concentrate without getting dangerous chemicals involved. He had done some medical studies during his Mastery, but he didn’t know enough about this new illness to have any clue what was going on. There was no mention of symptoms, or where they might have contracted the illness, or even who died. 

“I have no more information than you do,” he announced to his third years. They slumped slightly. “Any speculation will thus be idle, and we have class work to do. For those of you who made mistakes on your potions on Thursday, what should you have done differently?”

Reviews like this were always helpful, Draco had found. Even if not all of the students had messed up, knowing what could go wrong and how to fix it was valuable information for all of them. Following review of the previous week’s potion, he introduced them to the current week’s. “The Wiggenweld Potion is a healing potion. Who knows what it is an antidote to? Woodfield?”

“The Sleeping Draught and the Draught of Living Death, sir.”

“Correct. This is an incredibly useful and important recipe. It is relatively simple to brew, as we originally had first and second years learning this potion. When only using the ingredients necessary, it’s possible to go wrong, but it won’t be truly deadly. Unless,” he smiled, “you make an absolutely horrible mistake that I haven’t seen yet.” The class quietly laughed. “What ingredients are used?” He found a raised hand. “Smith? Name one, then pick someone else to name another.”

“Salamander blood. Um, Harris.”

“Honey water!”

Around it went until all the ingredients had been named. “Now, there are a variety of color changes that will be taking place as you stir and add ingredients. The final color will be a turquoise color, but there are a variety in between that are important to note, since they are the indicators of adding the next ingredients. Are there any of you that are color-blind?” A couple of students raised their hands. “Your lab partners will need to help you note the color changes. In preparation for Thursday, I want you to write about each ingredient and the effect that it has on the potion.”

* * *

The next month and a half brought no new cases of the virus, at least none that were reported on in the Prophet. It was almost more stressful, knowing it was still out there, but not knowing anything more about it. 

Draco’s mother had invited him to stay at the Manor for Christmas holidays, but he couldn’t stand the idea. He loved his mother, but he hated the Manor. She had redecorated it during his house arrest, but he couldn’t help remembering every grisly detail that had happened there, even if the rugs and wallpaper were blood-free. 

In an effort to keep his mother from pestering him about it any further, he implied that Minerva had asked him to stay at Hogwarts to help keep an eye on the students. Many of the professors would be spending the time with their own families, and most of the students were going home as well. The virus had left the public consciousness, and they saw no need to keep everyone in school and quarantined for the holidays. 

Draco hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

Of the nearly two dozen professors, Astoria Greengrass, Oliver Rivers, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Minerva, and himself were the only ones staying. Between the six of them, it was likely that they’d be able to keep the students under control. Rules tended to be a bit more relaxed, allowing for everyone to take a much needed post-exam break.

Meals were served more or less at the same time with only two tables—one for the students, one for the few teachers, and occasionally the teachers sat with the students, especially for breakfast or lunch. 

“Good morning, Draco.”

The voice had come from the previously empty chair on his right. “Good morning, Astoria.” They hadn’t talked much; with how busy Draco had been, he hadn’t talked much with anyone. “Is Daphne with Theo?”

Astoria nodded as she served herself. “They invited me, but I have little desire to be either a third wheel or a nanny.”

“Very sensible of you, considering you’re essentially a nanny here.”

“Yes, but these children talk.” She smiled at him. “I’ve missed you, Draco.”

He couldn’t deny that at one point he had been very interested in her. And it had been a long time since he had dated Charlotte. Maybe he needed this. “I’ve missed you as well, Astoria. Would you like to come for dinner tonight?”

“That would be wonderful.”

  
  


Draco paced, table set, candles lit, everything ready to go.

_ Galanthus nivalis. Ginger root. Gomas barbadensis.  _

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been on a date before. His hands were sweaty.

_ Goosegrass. Grainian hair. Graphorn horn. _

They had said six, right? He cast a quick  _ Tempus _ . 5:55.

_ Griffin claw. Gillyweed— _

There was a knock at the door. He took a deep breath and walked to the door. He wasn’t expecting her to be as dressed up as she was. He wasn’t dressed shabby in the slightest, but the way she stood in her dress and heels made him feel lacking. “I believe the gaping is a good sign,” Astoria laughed. “Are you going to invite me in?”

He gestured for her to come inside. “You look spectacular.”

“Thank you. I look for any excuse to wear this outfit.”

“As you should.” He really couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Blonde hair, curves, lips that he wanted to kiss, legs that he wanted—

“What’s for dinner?” she asked, walking towards the table. 

Draco shook himself out of his reverie, pulling a chair out for her. “It’s actually a winter stew I made myself. One of my Master’s favorites.”

“You cook?”

“I do now,” he corrected, placing a slice of bread in front of her. 

Dinner was much more difficult than he had been expecting. This couldn’t become some one-night stand. Especially not with Astoria. She would expect courting and formality. She was beautiful, intelligent, and passionate about teaching magical culture and history. It made him want to spend the entire night making out with her on his couch. Something, however, didn’t sit quite right with him.

It wasn’t until he let himself kiss her goodnight after walking her back to her quarters that he understood. There was no spark between them. 

The realization made him want to tear his hair out. Astoria was a perfectly acceptable choice. She could make him happy. But there was absolutely no spark beyond his general longing to be with someone again. 

* * *

The next wave of cases came a couple of weeks after Christmas break. The Daily Prophet had finally started reporting actual information beyond speculation. Apparently, the virus was a particularly bad variation of dragon pox, for which the normal cure and treatment was useless. In the meantime, it had gained the name “basilisk pox” simply because it was more deadly than regular dragon pox. Three more people had died, and another seven were put in a magical coma to stop the disease from progressing until they found a way to treat it.

Now that all of the students were at Hogwarts again, even more steps were taken to keep them safe. There were no more Non-Magical Culture and History field trips, no more trips to Hogsmeade, and no visitors beyond Floo calls. If a professor had family that didn’t live at Hogwarts with them, their home was under the same restrictions. It took a couple weeks to show symptoms, but they were lucky that none of the students were sick upon their return from break.

In the meantime, Draco was spending most of his free periods brewing for the hospital wing, the winter season necessitating more Pepper-Up than usual. He kept musing over the fact that wizarding society either got mildly sick with colds or severely sick with dragon pox, and nothing in between. 

He also kept thinking about Astoria. 

It’d only been the one date. The next day she had asked him out again, and he’d had to have the incredibly awkward conversation of explaining that despite how beautiful and intelligent she was, he felt nothing beyond friendship for her. It was a little uncomfortable around her now while she tried to sort out her feelings and pretend she didn’t like him anymore.

But, Merlin, he wanted to like her.

He wanted to like anyone. He missed having someone to love. He missed having someone to love him back.

At this point, leaving the castle to find someone was impossible. So, as he brewed, he went through the list of in-castle candidates. 

Lisa Turpin — Gay.

Luna Lovegood — Married? He honestly wasn’t sure.

Megan Jones — Dating Oliver Rivers.

Astoria Greengrass — Already out for previously contemplated reasons.

Penelope Clearwater — Married.

Aurora Sinistra — He was pretty sure she was also gay.

Daphne Greengrass Nott — Married to Theo.

Taylor Quirke — She was a complete mystery. She taught and studied Alchemy, so she was clearly intelligent. Perhaps she was single.

Ginny Weasley Potter — Married.

Hermione Granger — Single, as far as he knew. He wasn’t sure if she was still dating Weasley.

Unless he wanted to be interested in Minerva—who was at least three times his age—it looked like it was down to Quirke or Granger. He did know Quirke was a pure blood, but he had never actually met her family. She had been five years ahead of him in school, and her much younger sister had been Sorted his fourth year. Granger was...Granger. They had barely talked since he had given her a birthday present. She had thanked him with a genuine smile, appreciating the personal nature of it. 

Between the two of them, Granger held more allure. Quirke wasn’t nearly as attractive, and she seemed like she would be difficult to get to know or spend time with. Plus, he had never actually seen her outside any staff meetings, so tracking her down would make his intentions entirely too obvious, especially to a fellow Slytherin

Granger it was. If only there was a way to make her get to know him all over again.

* * *

Draco walked past Granger’s classroom during one of his off hours and leaned against the doorframe as he watched her teach. She caught his eye and looked away without acknowledging him with more than a small smile. Arithmancy hadn’t been his favorite subject, but he did use it occasionally in creating and improving potions. 

She taught well. He found himself understanding concepts better than he had in school, and the students seemed engaged as well. Her hair was still bushy, but he liked it. It was a nice contrast to Astoria’s well-refined nature. And she was smart. She was something he could match wits with, someone he could verbally spar with, and he would love every second of disagreeing with her. 

It surprised him, how fast he found himself liking her. They hadn’t spoken for more than a half-hour total since he had come to Hogwarts, but he realized he had been watching her out of the corner of his eye the whole time. When she was in school, she had been outspoken about things she believed in. She had been loyal to Harry through the worst of times, even when Weasley had turned against him, like during the infamous Triwizard Tournament. And it seemed she was still loyal even now. She seemed to be tight friends with Potter’s growing family. 

As she started wrapping up the class, he gave her a small nod and left before she could say anything to him. He wanted to talk to her, but not yet. He wasn’t good at just dropping in to say hi to someone. He wanted the conversation to come naturally—forced conversation had been a staple of his childhood, and he avoided it as much as possible. 

* * *

Minerva had significantly altered the schedule for classes since Draco had been in school, and he constantly found it disorienting. He shared class blocks with Herbology and Non-Magical Science, since, he presumed, they had the most connection to each other. While that was true, it also meant meetings with Minerva, Entwhistle, and Longbottom to try to discuss classroom integration.

This week was not much more interesting than any previous meetings had been. They usually got together once a month to make sure their curricula were still aligned, but Draco didn’t see the point and finally said as such. “I understand that knowing about knobgrass and such is important to using those ingredients, but is it so crucial that they learn the things a certain order that we have to have meetings to make sure one of us hasn’t changed things too much in our class?”

Entwhistle looked affronted. “Don’t you want students to have a basic understanding of non-magical science before they start playing with dangerous chemicals?”

Draco stared at him. “Are you really assuming that I’m so lax in my own instruction? I’ll admit that you gave them good guidance in their first two years, but the timing of lectures this year is not going to cause a significant change in how safe or unsafe my classroom is.”

Entwhistle had the grace to look ashamed as Minerva stepped in. “Perhaps you are right, Draco. The meeting is a relic of when these courses were first starting to blend together, so it may be time to end them. If things start to fall apart,” she smiled, “then we will just have to meet again.”

As they left, Entwhistle kept pace with Draco as they headed towards the Great Hall. “I’m sorry for what I said back there. I didn’t mean you weren’t in control. But I actually really want your help with a project I’m working on, and I’m hoping that you have some time to assist me, even if I do say some frustrating things once in a while. It’d be good to work with someone so good in Potions like you.”

Draco sighed. “I’m sorry, but I’m still trying to settle in. I may be able to help in the summertime, but I can’t make any promises.”

Entwhistle nodded eagerly, and with a wave, headed to his own quarters.

* * *

“Good morning, Granger,” Draco said as he walked into the staff room. She sat sullenly with her cup of coffee, clearly not a morning person.

“Morning, yes, good, no,” she mumbled back to him.

“You seem like you spent the night in the Forbidden Forest.”

She hesitated. “Didn’t sleep well.”

He nodded as he poured himself his own cup. “I think you’re going to need more than coffee to get through class. Or you could just skip it.”

Hermione looked up, horrified. “Why would I ever skip class?”

He laughed, “The concept of you even contemplating skipping class is rather amusing.”

“I’m a teacher! I can’t just abandon them!”

“What if you were sick?” He pointed out.

She sat for a moment. “I’d find someone else to cover the class or cancel it altogether.”

“So,” he gestured his cup at her, “do that.” He drank a sip.

She still seemed confused. “But I’m not sick, I’m just tired.”

“Granger, I’ve seen thestrals in better condition than you are. You need some sleep. I’ve got some Dreamless Sleep back in my lab if you need it.”

“I—Thank you. I should probably let Minerva know and just cancel classes for today. The seventh years can always just get together and work on their projects without me.”

“Exactly. Do you want the potion?”

She was quiet for a couple of moments as she thought. “I do, I really do, but I’m trying to avoid an addiction to it.” She got up and left her coffee on the side table.

“I saw Minerva talking to Goldstein in the Entrance Hall,” he added. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” she said softly.

He watched her leave, trying to understand who Granger had become. She seemed more tempered since school, but he supposed that he had tempered as well. She still had a lot of the same habits and values, but she was intentional about them.

And more than that, he  _ wanted  _ to help her. Merlin, he wanted to be the one to make her feel better without a potion. Something was pulling him to her, and he didn’t care what that was, as long as he got her.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione walked into the Headmistress’ office to find Malfoy, Kingsley, and Minerva all waiting on her. She didn’t think she was late, and glanced at her watch. “Don’t worry, Hermione,” Minerva said, noticing the agitation. “I was already meeting with Draco on a different matter when Kingsley arrived. You’re precisely on time.” Hermione nodded and settled into one of the chairs near the desk.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the virus from The Daily Prophet,” Kingsley began. She and Malfoy nodded. “We’ve had the research at St. Mungo’s working on this for two months already, but they haven’t made any progress. We’re opening it up now to others that we’ve vetted to try and find a cure.”

Minerva interrupted, “I understand you two have had some personal differences in the past, but our best chance is having you work together on this.”

Kingsley nodded. “Even the few tiny breakthroughs we’ve had have been in combining arithmancy and potions. They’ve managed to determine it’s not caused by spell damage, so the cure will most likely come in the form of a potion, or something similar.”

Malfoy seemed pensive, which didn’t tell Hermione much about his mood. This was the sort of thing she would be missing in her life, so she was at least excited—in an academic way. Obviously it was a horrible thing that all of these people were ill and that they still hadn’t found a cure two months later, but this was a spectacular opportunity. “I believe I’ll be able to work with Malfoy as long as he’s civil as well,” she said. “This is an unusual opportunity for research.”

Malfoy scowled slightly. “Of course I’ll be civil. Will we have access to the research notes from the St. Mungo’s team?”

“Of course,” said Kingsley. “We’ll also give you the opportunity to come visit the patients as soon as possible. I’m sure you’ll want to get a first hand look at some of the symptoms.”

They both nodded. 

“If that’s settled,” Minerva smiled, “then let’s go down to dinner. Kingsley, you’re welcome to stay, if you wish.”

As Kingsley made his excuses, Hermione headed out of the tower, Malfoy following close behind. When they got to the bottom, she turned around. “We’re going to need to set some ground rules if we’re going to work together. I also don’t think we have any open class hours at the same time, so most of our research will have to either take place in the evenings, or on Wednesdays and weekends when we don’t have other responsibilities.”

Malfoy held his hand up. “Slow down, Granger. Yes, we need to figure out ground rules and a schedule, but I’ve had a long day, and I’d like to go get something to eat.”

She nodded, and he continued towards the Great Hall by himself. 

“You two will be just fine,” Minerva said from behind her. “Draco is a kind enough man. He changed a lot during his house arrest and time in France. Maybe you should try and remember how much you’ve changed as well.”

They had reached the Great Hall, so Hermione was left with one last piece of advice from her former professor. “Draco is not the villain of this school, and I don’t want you imagining that he is.”

* * *

The St. Mungo’s ward for the basilisk pox patients was starting to become crowded. Many of the patients had originally believed that there was no harm in going about their normal tasks, unaware that they were contracting and spreading the virus.

Hermione talked with one of the patients who swore that she hadn’t spent time with anyone who had the virus, but it turned out that she had gone to a restaurant where the waitress had been sick—and was actually a few beds down. Most of the patients were unavailable to talk to, since they were under the magical coma, but the few that they could chat with had come in that day.

Hermione and Malfoy went down to the research lab, wanting to see how far the Potioneers and other assistants had come. 

They had managed to isolate the differences in the normal strain of dragon pox and the strain of basilisk pox. Some non-magical advancements had made their way into the magical world, for which Hermione was extremely grateful. There were major similarities, but basilisk pox was more insidious. It lingered in the body for a couple of weeks before symptoms were apparent, and the entire time they appeared symptom-free, they were actually spreading the virus by touching other people.

The first thing Malfoy and Hermione realized the Minister needed to do was to make an official announcement regarding the virus and addressing the steps needed to prevent the spread. Diagon Alley should be closed down as much as possible, and most non-urgent Ministry positions should be stopped for the time being. The sooner they stopped the spread, the more time they would have to find a cure, or at very least some sort of protection.

Hermione and Malfoy retreated to Malfoy’s private potions lab. She spread out the notes she had taken on one of the tables, pulling out a pen to start jotting down more ideas.

“Should we start with a vaccine or a cure?” She asked him. 

“A treatment would be good, since it’d be best to take those people out of their comas sooner rather than later. But if we start on a vaccine, it’ll free up the researchers at St. Mungo’s to focus on the treatment. A vaccine would mean things could go back to normal, or at least a little bit more normal.”

She nodded. “Alright, we can let them know that’s what our focus will be. A non-magical vaccine typically takes a small amount of the virus and then puts it in the body to give the immune system a chance to build up antibodies against the small amount. But, being able to find the right amount that can be put in a vaccine to give enough of an immune system boost without making them actually sick from the virus could be difficult.”

“You’re the arithmancer, just run the numbers.”

“It doesn’t work like that! As far as I know, the wizarding world hasn’t ever had a vaccine. Even dragon pox just had a cure, right?” Draco nodded. “We have to figure out not only the right amount of basilisk pox that can be put in the vaccine, but also the right ingredients in the potion that will help the vaccine actually work. And honestly, I don’t know enough about non-magical vaccines to make any sort of an educated guess as to what those would be. We’re going to need to do some research, which means I’m going to have to ask someone in the non-magical world to send them via owl-post.” 

“Which, I’m assuming, means that we can’t start until you get them.”

“Exactly. I would say it’d be a good idea to start collecting blood samples and some lab rats to start testing the vaccines.”

Unfortunately, Hermione’s parents were no longer a lifeline to the non-magical world, since she hadn’t tried correcting their memories after she erased them during the war. She didn’t believe they’d forgive her for taking such a drastic measure, and she didn’t think they’d be any happier having double the memories. 

Instead, she contacted Penelope’s sister who had become a doctor, asking for anything she could give her regarding vaccine research. Nichole already knew about the magical world, which made the request significantly easier. She received an owl back that night with a promise to spend the weekend finding the necessary information.

Hermione had never thought this would be the project of her life. She had always anticipated something along the lines of house-elf liberation or werewolf rights, but those were no longer fights she was responsible for. Not after the brief, disastrous stint in the Ministry for the two years post-grad. 

She had mixed feelings about the idea. On one hand, it would be a massive achievement to introduce magical vaccines. On the other hand, it was a terrible circumstance to have to necessitate such a thing. She, and Malfoy, were going to be responsible for the protection of the wizarding world.

* * *

The castle was decorated in a ridiculous amount of pink, red and white. Minerva wasn’t particularly a Valentine’s person, but she always said she did it in honor of Albus, and Albus’ portrait certainly appreciated it.

Hermione always thought it was absolutely ridiculous and it only served to make her feel more lonely. Her sum of relationships accounted for exactly three: Ron, for about a month post-war; Krum, for a year after Ron (long distance did not work well, and she eventually realized they had absolutely nothing in common); and Oliver Rivers about two years ago. Luckily, that had been only a two week relationship, or things would be a lot more awkward.

Now, with the isolation, her options had become much more limited. She wanted a date. And more than a date, she wanted a boyfriend. She could always try dating her coworkers again. What could go wrong besides horrible awkwardness? But it might be worth the effort.

Kevin Entwhistle — Way too much energy for her. He always felt...overbearing and a little patronizing.

Harry — Married, and she had never been interested in him beyond a small crush in their fourth year.

Oliver Rivers — Been there, done that.

Charlie Weasley — That man was hot, for sure, but he was gay, so that wasn’t an option.

Nigel Wolpert — Married.

Dennis Creevey — Also gay.

Terry Boot — Married to Padma Patil.

Neville — Dating Hannah Abbott.

Anthony Goldstein — Honestly, she had no clue what was up with him, but she didn’t think he was attractive, so that was a moot point.

Draco Malfoy — Well. He was Malfoy.

Malfoy seemed to be her only option. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to get to know him better, and working on the vaccine would certainly help. He was incredibly handsome, and she had always thought his eyes were pretty (even when she thought he was being a complete prat). His personality, though, left something to be desired. At least, from what she knew of him.

Draco Malfoy it was, then. Someone to attempt to pursue, someone to maybe fall in love with?

Wasn’t that an absurd thought? Hermione Granger falling in love with Draco Malfoy. If only she had a time turner to tell their sixth year class. Everyone would think she was insane for even contemplating the idea. Hell, everyone would think she was insane now for contemplating the idea.

* * *

“You seem to be doing alright with Draco,” Harry mentioned.

Hermione shrugged. “It’s not nearly as bad as I thought, having to work with him. He seems decently smart, so I don’t have to explain myself three times over.”

“Can I tell you again how grateful I am for your help on my homework back in school?”

“Always.”

“So, what changed?” He asked.

Hermione stared at the glass in her hand, trying to decide then and there when things had changed. “Maybe that first day we started working together,” she wondered aloud. “We had gone to see the patients, and—of the ones that were willing to talk to him—he was incredibly sympathetic, as well as getting good notes in the process. When it came to the ones who hated his guts, he just nodded and had me come and talk to them. He didn’t get mad at them and demand that they listen to him.

“Then, when we were starting the project, he wasn’t at all adverse to researching non-magical techniques to use as the basis for our vaccine. He doesn’t have a bias against that kind of thing any more. So, I don’t feel like he inherently hates me just because I didn’t have magical parents.”

Harry smiled. “That’s great!”

“Yeah,” she said half-heartedly. “I’m just worried that one of us is going to do something to scare the other one off the project. I get kind of emotional sometimes, and I don’t want to get so worked up with him that he swears never to work with me again.”

“Okay. So, don’t get worked up with him.”

“Easier said than done.”

“You just told me he wasn’t being a prat anymore.”

“I don’t think I said those words exactly.”

“No, but they were definitely implied.”

Hermione drained her glass and set it on the side table. “How did you know you wanted to date Ginny?”

“Are you wanting to date Draco?” Harry asked with a grin.

She was grateful she was able to keep her blush under control. “No, it’s more of a general question. I’m considering trying to go on dates again once this basilisk pox thing passes, and I want to know what I should be looking for.”

Harry got the dreamy far off look he got every time he talked about Ginny, even though it had been years since they’d first gotten together. “I’d started thinking she was attractive in fifth year. I liked watching her during DA meetings. She was funny, smart, good at Quidditch, and always willing to help classmates figure things out. Plus, Neville and Luna were both friends with her, and they have great taste,” he laughed. “But it took me awhile to realize that I wanted her with me more often than not. I’d think of something funny and wish I could tell her. Or, like when we were on the run, I wanted to talk to her about how hard it was and listen to her about her problems at school. I missed her when she was away. We knew each other for a long time before we ever became romantically involved. So, our story might be different from yours.”

She sighed. “I know, I just wanted some hope that it’d be possible to figure out something. I always thought Ron and I would click, but we never really did. There wasn’t any sort of spark or desire to keep things going.”

“Yeah, you still fought all of the time.”

She gave a wry smile. “Not really a sound relationship if that keeps happening. And then, Viktor was always charming and nice, and I guess I got a little swept up in the idea that he was still interested in me after all that time. It was right after my break-up with Ron, which didn’t help.”

“I’m still surprised it went on that long.”

“And Oliver...”

“I remember that debacle. I’m surprised you two aren’t more awkward around each other.”

“It’s not like we can avoid each other, so we kind of had to just suck it up and deal with it. And I don’t really go out of my way to talk to him. Anyways,” she continued, “I’m just trying to have some hope. I don’t really want to be alone anymore. Friends are nice, but I want a bit more companionship. I don’t think you’re going to join me in my bed any time soon.”

Harry snorted. “That sounds like a horrible idea for so many reasons.”

* * *

The non-magical vaccination books had finally come in, so the majority of their work-time for the last week had been simply reading and taking notes on the books. Hermione was slightly overwhelmed by the amount of work that went into vaccinations. she was also a bit surprised that she had never actually researched them before; she mentioned this tidbit to Malfoy, who promptly laughed at her.

“This is going to be a lot more work than I thought,” she muttered as she flipped through the pages of one of the medical textbooks. “And I’d already thought it was going to be a lot of work.”

“Still up for it, or are you planning on slacking off, Granger?”

She gave him a small glare. “I always follow through on things I commit to.”

“Except for divination.”

She waved a hand. “Divination doesn’t count. It’s nonsense to begin with, and you’ll see that it’s not even a course here anymore. Are you going to slack off?”

“This is my first real chance to make something of my name here in England, of course I’m not going to slack off.”

“So this is also just some PR stunt to you?”

He seemed agitated. He went quiet for a few seconds. And then he spoke, “No, it’s not. But I was trained to think of how things would reflect on my name, and it’s still important to me. I don’t like going about my life and having people spit on the ground in front of me. I’m looking forward to the research opportunity this gives you and me, but I can’t dismiss the real fact that a contribution like this will help lift my status beyond ‘ex-Death Eater’”

She nodded slowly and went back to her notebook, feeling his eyes on her.

“Why do you hate me?” Malfoy asked.

She looked at up at him. “I don’t.”

“You certainly act like you do. I’m surprised you even agreed to work with me.”

She sniffed. “I can deal with you for the greater good. I certainly managed that in school.”

“See, like that,” Malfoy explained. “You keep making digging comments at me or about me when I’ve been nothing but civil to you in return. I’m not the same person, Granger. I’m sure you aren’t either, but you haven’t shown me that you’ve changed as well.”

She mulled this over as Malfoy sat down, across from her. “I don’t hate you,” she said. “I dislike you. Or at least, I disliked you in the past. I haven’t seen you in such a long time that it’s instinct for me to slip into the habit of our antagonistic relationship.

“And, I’m sorry about that,” she said more softly. “I’m not very good at changing my mind. I’m stubborn, and that’s not the best of personality traits.”

“No, but tenacity is basically the same thing, and that’s exactly what we’re going to need to try and find a solution to the illness.” Malfoy smiled at her. “Can we start over?” He stretched his hand across the table. “Draco Malfoy, Potions Master and professor at Hogwarts.”

Hermione smiled back at him. “Hermione Granger, Arithmancer and professor at Hogwarts. Nice to meet you.”


	5. Chapter 5

The students, unfortunately, weren’t able to go home for break, which meant the professors had to suffer through the antics of stir-crazy teenagers. Minerva didn’t want to shorten the break, since they all needed some time off from classes, but it was still a large hassle. 

Spring break was also the only time Draco was going to have a long stretch of time to work with Granger until the summer, so they’d been taken off all “caretaking” duties during the holidays. 

* * *

Vaccines, Draco had learned, were relatively simple when broken down into their component parts. There were preservatives to prevent contamination; adjuvants to improve the body’s response to the vaccine; stabilizers to keep the vaccine effective post creation; residual cell culture materials like eggs (since that was commonly used in the non-magical world to grow enough of the virus to make the vaccine; and small doses of the virus). 

For their tasks, they had to find magical ingredients that could work for each of those components, not only to work as those functions, but also to work together. The work for the break was to research which ingredients could fall into which category, and then, over the next few months, find the combinations that would be most effective.

“What about adding a bezoar to the potion?” Granger asked from her spot at the lab table. 

“That would either neutralize the virus entirely, which would defeat the purpose, or it could neutralize any contaminants in the potion.”

“So that’s a maybe,” she smiled. 

He leaned against a different table in the lab, his arms crossed, and his mind racing through a list of ingredients. “Dittany as an adjuvant, possibly flobberworms as a cultivating source, ginger root as an adjuvant. Honeywater as an adjuvant. Knotgrass or lacewing flies as preservatives, though we might just be able to incorporate a modified stasis spell for both a preservative and a stabilizer.”

“I think we’ll need a strong set of adjuvants for this particular virus.” Granger tapped a pen on her chin. “Wizards seem to need more than average in order to help heal, and this virus is particularly dangerous.”

“We can still use salts, since those occur in the magical world as well. Sopophorous beans could be good. Vervain infusion, Valerian root, Wiggentree bark, Wormwood. Almost anything used in a healing potion already could be good.”

“What about a modified Healing Potion? We brew that, add a concentration of the virus, and then add some stasis spells. It’s at least a good place to start.”

Draco nodded. “It’s a good base. I’ll write up a list of various healing potions and antidotes, and if you can run the numbers on those with a variety of virus concentrations, we’ll have an idea of where to go from there.”

Granger nodded, pulling out a new sheet of paper. Draco went to grab a book from his library before standing at the chalkboard. The charmed chalk stood ready to transcribe his list as he read through possibilities. 

* * *

“You keep chewing on your pens,” Draco noted. A month had passed since they’d begun serious work on the vaccine. 

Granger blushed. “Yeah, I started in primary school. My mom kept trying to get me to stop biting my nails so I started biting my pen instead.”

“Do you bite quills when you use them?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I was quite grateful to discover Sugar Quills. Which, I noticed, you have a particular fondness for.”

“Guilty as charged,” he smirked. “Those and Honeydukes dark chocolate bars are my weak spots.” He paused. “That, and homemade cookies. My mother always sent them to me for my birthday.”

“You did always seem to get lots of care packages from her. She must love you a lot.”

Draco fell quiet, thinking about everything his mother had done for him. She had lied to Voldemort to save their family—to save him. They had drifted so far apart despite—or maybe because of—their confinement shortly after the war. She wanted to pretend things had never happened. She wanted to act like their family was still at the top of wizarding society and that their name wasn’t tarnished. He knew what they were now and couldn’t forget that. All the remodeling in the world couldn’t fix that.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“It’s not your fault,” he scoffed. “I just have a broken messed up family.” He stalked off to the other side of the lab, a hand running through his hair. “I have a father that couldn’t care about anything more than power and fortune. I have a mother who imagines she’s as important as she was before the return of Voldemort. And I’m stuck being the villain I was ten years ago.”

“You aren’t a villain!” Granger insisted.

“I am! You could barely stand me when I came here, along with half the other staff. There are students who believe I’m nothing more than the Death Eater I was at sixteen. I’ve been here nearly an entire school year, and I still feel mistrusted. What am I supposed to do to change their minds?”

“You changed my mind. That has to count for something.”

He looked at her. “How did that happen?”

“I spent time with you, mostly. I’d tried thinking about you more charitably after chatting with Harry and Ginny last fall, but working together on this project has shown me that you’re so much more than you were when we were young.”

“I’m teaching these kids, though. And it’s not as if I have spare time for the professors that seem to hate me.”

“Probably not,” she shrugged. “But there are always going to be people that dislike you. Why keep chasing after their good opinion when you can use that energy to care about people who already have a good opinion of you? People have disliked me my whole life. Before Hogwarts, it was because of the unexplained things that happened to me in primary school, plus my admittedly know-it-all attitude. At Hogwarts, not only was it my attitude, but the fact that I had two non-magical parents made me automatically an object of hatred.”

“I am sorry about that. I was horribly wrong.”

“And I forgive you for that. You grew up being taught that was the way things were. Kids don’t normally question their parents when they’re that young. But my point is, there will always be something you are or something you do that people will dislike, and you will tear yourself apart trying to please everyone.”

His voice got softer. “I don’t know who to trust.”

She finally walked over to him, putting her hand over his on the table. “Trust me. Trust Harry, and Ginny. Trust Minerva. Trust the students that come to you with their problems. Trust the students asking for help in class. Trust the people that treat you with genuine kindness, and those who give you help seeking nothing in return.”

* * *

One of Draco’s favorite changes that Minerva had made was introducing an ethics course. The third years had a seminar every Wednesday taught by a different professor or outside speaker. Ethics were especially important in potions, especially since most people relied on pre-made potions from an apothecary rather than brewing their own. 

This was his first time teaching the seminar himself, and he was encouraged to see the Slytherin third years looking attentive as he started. “This year you’ve already learned a fair amount about potions, as well as a fair amount about ethics and ethical procedures. What are some connections you can find between them?”

One of them suggested that it wasn’t ethical to test potions on people that didn’t agree to be tested. “What about animals?” another student asked in response.

“What about animals?” Draco agreed. “When is it okay to test things on animals?”

A Hufflepuff girl raised her hand. “In the non-magical world,” she explained, “people usually think it’s okay to use animals to test medicines and similar products, but not okay to test beauty products on them.”

“What if an animal gets really sick from a potion test?” a different Hufflepuff asked. 

“That’s one of the reasons we do testing,” Draco elaborated. “Because if it made the animal sick, it might make a human sick as well. Is it better that a few animals get hurt so that lots of humans can feel better?” Most of the students nodded, while a few of them shook their heads. “It’s okay if you don’t think that animals should be used for potions testing, but I’d like you to talk to your classmates right now about possible alternatives. How can we avoid using animals to test potions—specifically for medicinal purposes?”

Granger had poked her head in while he was watching and listening to the discussions. She gave a thumbs-up with a questioning look on her face, and he nodded back with a smile in response. She grinned and started listening as well. “Professor Granger,” someone called out when they noticed her. “Can you use arithmancy to test potions?”

“Sort of,” she responded with a nod of approval from Draco. “Arithmancy will only give you a perfect answer if you are able to include all of the variables. There are some variables that are very hard to include in an arithmantic equation even if you know how to do them. Most potioneers don’t always have a strong background in arithmancy, so testing is easier for them than writing out equations that they might not do accurately. A lot of people don’t trust numbers and want to see the results for themselves.”

Draco stepped in. “With standard potions, we know what the outcome should be. I usually grade your potions based on color, texture, smell, or a number of other visible factors; I don’t taste all of the Dreamless Sleep Draughts to make sure they work. Experimental potions are always a bit different, and people want to trust that things are working the way they are hoping they are.

“Beyond testing,” he continued, “what are other ethical dilemmas in potion making?”

“The different kinds of potions you make. Like, maybe we shouldn’t be making love potions,” a Slytherin boy spoke up. Draco remembered he had been dosed with one earlier in the year.

“Precisely. The potion’s intended result isn’t always something that should necessarily exist in the world. Does that mean it shouldn’t be brewed at all? What if trying to develop a love potion could lead to the discovery of a different potion that could help people? Where do we draw the line between what should be created and what shouldn’t be created? Dreamless Sleep, for example, is very helpful for people who have horrible nightmares, but it can also be very addicting. Should we stop brewing it because it might create addiction in people?” There were nods as well as heads shaking. “Some of the responsibility in potioneering falls on the brewers themselves. The previous Headmaster of Hogwarts—Professor Snape—had to make some decisions when he brewed for Voldemort as a spy during the war. On one hand, he needed to make sure his cover wasn’t exposed, but on the other hand, he had to be careful what sort of thing he was going to let loose in the world. Many of the most dangerous of the notes and things he made were destroyed after his death.”

“But what if something really important had been in there?” a Ravenclaw asked with concern. 

“You’re right, something insightful and useful could have been among the things destroyed,” Draco nodded. “But would you rather that there was a recipe available for a poison that could target non-magical people?”

“What if it was kept somewhere really safe where only people who promised that they wouldn’t use it for bad things could use it?”

“That’s a possibility, and some things are treated like that. In this particular case, Professor Snape had requested that those things be destroyed after his death. And, as I was saying, only some of the responsibility falls on the potioneers. Some responsibility also falls on the part of the people who purchase potions. If there is a love potion in a store, should you buy it and use it? No, because love potions will not help you have a healthy relationship with whoever you’re intending to use it on. Part of being a good person is recognizing and not using things that can be harmful.”

Granger stayed through the remainder of the lesson, her eyes shining with intensity as she absorbed the arguments. “That was brilliant!” she said when all the students had left for lunch in the Great Hall. 

“Thank you,” he smiled, tidying up some papers. “I’m glad the students seemed to find it interesting.”

“I’d considered a lot of those points myself, but it’s always fascinating to hear them from the perspective of a child. Did all of Professor Snape’s things get destroyed.” Draco shook his head. She sighed in relief. “What happened to most of them?”

“I got them,” he smirked.

Granger looked shocked and then she smiled. “Right, he was your godfather. Is that what led you to do a potions mastery?”

“A bit. he had left me a note that was basically an order to get my life together and to do something useful with it. I figured if he was going to provide me with the remainder of his potions lab, I might as well get some use out of it.”

Her eyes got a little dreamy. “I’d love to read some of his old books and notes if you’d let me sometime.”

“Let’s get this vaccine done first, yeah?”

* * *

His birthdays in France had been rather unremarkable. His mother had come to visit for a weekend every year, but beyond that, he didn’t do much. They had lost the allure of childhood, and he had no reason to continue looking forward to them or thinking of them as anything special.

In fact, his birthday being on a Tuesday meant that it was even more unremarkable. Too late in the week to celebrate the previous weekend, too early in the week to celebrate the following weekend. And, since it was exam schedule for the next two weeks, he didn’t even have the privilege of having the following day off from teaching. He only had third, fourth, and sixth year exams to proctor, but none of them were today, so Granger had requested his help in the lab. 

She wasn’t there when he walked in, which made him frustrated at his time being wasted like this. “Sorry, I’m late,” Granger gasped as she ran into the room. “I was watching James and Al, and Al just threw up all over my clothes, so I had to go change.”

“Are you a witch or not?” He asked as he leaned against one of the desks.

“Honestly, I always forget I can do things the magical way”

“Even though it’s been twenty years?”

“Not quite that long. Plus, magically cleaned clothes never feel really clean.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter, I’m here now.” She started fishing for something in her bag. 

“I haven’t made any significant research on the ingredients since the last time we talked. Getting students prepared for their exams has taken a lot more time than I anticipated.”

Apparently she hadn’t even been listening, as she exclaimed, “Ah! Here it is!” while pulling two packages out of her bag. “These are for you.” 

He took it from her. “Thanks?”

“I was told it’s your birthday today. It is, isn’t it?” She seemed concerned.

“It is. I just didn’t expect anything from today except for research.”

She gave a wave of her hand. “This vaccine is important, yes, but you also deserve a present. The first one you should open now. The second one you’re welcome to open now or you can wait until you’re alone sometime tonight.”

Draco knew that they were becoming friends, but he still hadn’t anticipated a gift from Granger. “Will you be able to handle not knowing how I’ll react to it?” He teased.

She gave a shrug. “I’ll survive.”

He set it aside. “Alright, then.” He shook the first box slightly. “What’s in here?”

“You could just open it.”

He slowly unraveled the ribbon and lifted the lid. A dozen homemade chocolate chip cookies sat nestled inside. “These look amazing.” He raised the box to his nose. “And they smell delicious.” He grabbed one, and then changed the topic. “Show me what your math is saying.”

* * *

He had skipped dinner in the Great Hall to make himself crepes in his kitchenette. He had his house-elf bring him some chocolate cake for dessert, but he didn’t trust the kitchens to make crepes correctly. It was late by the time he opened Granger’s gift.

There was a card on top with a note attached.

_ “Draco, _

_ I’m not sure how familiar you are with non-magical literature, but I wanted to share one of my favorites with you. You might relate to Mr. Darcy a bit. I know we’ll be working hard this summer, but I hope you’ll find time to read it anyways. _

_ Hermione” _

The book itself was a gorgeous blue edition, silhouettes of who he presumed were the main characters on the front. He poured himself a glass of wine and flipped to the first page.

_ “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…” _

* * *

The Leaving Feast was Friday, but the graduation ceremony was Saturday. Having shuffled all the younger students onto the train, watched over by the sixth year prefects, the seventh years had a few hours to enjoy the nostalgia of a quiet castle. 

Draco was tasked to help Minerva alter the wards to allow the non-magical relatives attend, a change that he was happily surprised to see. He had never actually been to a graduation ceremony, so it was something to look forward to. 

He finally entered the Great Hall to see Granger adjusting the layout to accommodate everyone. Tables had been moved to the sides of the hall in preparation for post-ceremony lingering, and chairs were placed on either side of a large aisle. Students had alphabetically assigned seats in the very front, while the families were to fill in the seats as they pleased.

The colors of the houses were artfully intertwined in the decor. Chairs for the students had ropes of their house colors along the back. The stars in the ceiling twinkled with reds and blues and greens and yellows.

The guests had all been isolated for two weeks beforehand, and all were tested for the virus prior to entering the school. The number of visitors was strictly limited to immediate family or family substitutes to keep the potential spread down. The Board of Governors had more or less forced Minerva to hold the graduation ceremony, so she had done what she could to avoid problems.

As the students finally filed in, Draco realized that the seventh year class was double the size of the current first years, a result of parents finally comfortable with the idea of Voldemort being well and truly gone. These children had lived through the war as children, their bogeyman an actual terrifying Dark Lord that very much could have killed them. Counting the years back like that had always terrified him. Not because he was confronting his own age, but because he imagined what it would have been like to be one of them. 

He didn’t actually know a majority of the seventh years. Very few had been enticed by past potions professors enough to stay through to N.E.W.Ts, and most had probably been discouraged so as not to need to teach them. He was familiar with his students from his House, but that was about it. They seemed excited about the future, even if it was one where anyone could die of a horrible illness. They felt immortal, and they had been given very little reason to doubt their immortality. Some had already gotten job offers pre-test scores, some were going on to wizarding universities, while others had gotten apprenticeships. 

Minerva stood up at the front of the hall. “Today, we honor these four score men and women who have learned from the very best Britain has to offer. Today, they will be released from the schooling of youth, into a world that is theirs for the taking. None of us truly know what is in our futures, but it is a wonderful thing to look forward and imagine that anything can be there.

“Most of you may not realize that as students, you were bonded to this school. You were protected as students both inside and outside this castle by the very old magic woven through its walls. It did not make you invincible, but it gave you some protection. As we release this bond today, it will leave an imprint of fondness and remembrance.”

The teachers stood and held their wands in front of them parallel to the floor. It was not a protection lifted with a single word, but required a chant in unison from all who were currently protecting the students. Although in Latin, Draco still loved the words.

_ “Through dark we protected you _

_ Through light we encouraged you _

_ Our knowledge we leave with you _

_ Our strengths we give unto you _

_ May the bond of student be broken _

_ And the bond of friend be created. _

_ So mote it be.” _

The last line, in English, was repeated by the students. A swirl of gold rose from them, twisting and turning gradually to silver before settling back down on them; the magic would bless them with a bit of extra power for the next year or so, at least, according to Minerva.

As each student stepped up on the dais, the headmistress tapped them on the left shoulder, followed by the right shoulder, and then the head with her wand in an act reminiscent of knighting ceremonies. The teachers had done all they could to teach and prepare the students to enter whatever path they chose to follow.

* * *

A few nights later, Draco left his chair in front of the fire to answer the door. He should have been asleep hours ago, but he had gotten caught up in his book, a small luxury he was using the break to take advantage of.

"Hi," Hermione said in a small voice as he opened the door. She looked like a forgotten parchment in the bottom of a first year's school bag. 

"I thought you were going to bed early."

"I tried. But I…couldn't sleep. Can I come in?"

"Of course." He gestured her inside, closing the door behind her. "Tea?"

She nodded. Draco went to the kitchen with her trailing him like a duckling. "I'm assuming it was nightmares?" he asked without looking at her. He could feel her surprise. "Granger," he said wryly, "we grew up in the middle of the war. Everyone gets nightmares."

"Not ten years later, they don't."

"They most certainly do. They just don't talk to you about it. After all, you don't tell very many people about yours, do you?" She shook her head as he took a sip of his tea. "There you have it, then. We all have nightmares."

"How do you seem so put together, then? I feel like I'm wearing a glamour every other day, and you never seem like you've had a poor sleep in my life."

"How do you know I'm not also wearing a glamour?" he smirked.

"Are you?"

"Occasionally. My nightmares are more of the daytime sort."

"Sorry," she said as she took a sip of her own tea. "I didn't mean to pry."

"You did," he shrugged, "but you're curious, not malicious. And I figure if you trusted me enough to come to me post-nightmare at," he cast a quick  _ Tempus _ charm, "2:30 in the morning, I could trust you with some personal info of my own."

"Merlin! Is it really that late?” She ran her hands through her already lion-esque hair. “I can’t believe I came here. I should have just gone back to bed.” She set her cup down with a clatter, patting her pockets in a desperate double-check for her wand. “I am so sorry, Draco. I’ll let you get to bed.” She kept babbling, her words becoming more incomprehensible.

“Granger.

“Granger.

“Hermione!” 

She stopped in her tracks, spinning slowly to look at him. “Why don’t you stay and sleep here? I’ll just stay out here in the sitting room, and you can sleep in my bed. That way you’ll know there’s someone keeping an eye out for you,” he explained.

“Why would you do that for me?” she whispered. “Besides, I have a perfectly functional room of my own.” 

He stepped closer to her, lifting her chin up with a finger so that she would look him in the eyes. “Because, Hermione,” he smiled, “that’s what I do for my friends.” 

* * *

After she had climbed into bed, she had wanted him to stay by her, so he summoned his book from the front room and sat up against the headboard on the other end of the mattress. Hermione had kept her wand gently lit, giving him just enough light to see by. It didn’t take long, though, before her nightmares started again and Draco simply put a hand on her outstretched arm. The touch calmed her for a bit, but as if a flower seeking sun, she moved closer to him until she was burrowed into his side. His arm came around to rest on her back, gently stroking it as he began to read aloud.

_ "Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman." _

_ "Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it." _

_ "Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved." _

_ "All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading." _

"Well," Draco mused aloud, "you are certainly accomplished in that respect." She seemed to have fallen asleep, so he continued to talk to himself. "It seems rather like high class Wizarding society. And Caroline Bingley reminds a lot of how Pansy was when we were younger."

He kept reading on through another two chapters.

_ “But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.” _

_ “Such as vanity and pride.” _

_ “Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.” _

_ Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile. _

_ “Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume,” said Miss Bingley; “and pray what is the result?” _

_ “I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.” _

_ “No,” said Darcy, “I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.” _

_ “That is a failing indeed!” cried Elizabeth. “Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me.” _

_ “There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.” _

_ “And your defect is to hate everybody.” _

_ “And yours,” he replied with a smile, “is willfully to misunderstand them.” _

Draco set the book down. “You remind me a lot of Elizabeth. And I see a lot of Mr. Darcy in myself. My pride and vanity in my younger years was certainly misplaced. I believed myself without defect for some time. I hope I’ve changed that though, and I hope even more that you no longer wish to ‘willfully misunderstand’ me. I’m trying, Hermione. I don’t want to be the person I was,” he concluded softly.

* * *

He woke up with Hermione in his arms, having slid from his sitting position into whatever this was. He tried to extricate himself, but found his arm trapped under her head. It was late enough in the morning that he could probably wake her up, but the memory of the bags under her eyes kept him from jostling her why further.

His warmth seemed to have been missed, since Hermione started to stir. Finally pulling his arm back, Draco climbed out of bed, not wanting to startle her. They could talk when he got out of the shower.

He came back to find the bed empty and made, a note resting on his pillow.

"Thank you."

He turned it over, but there were no other words on the page. He had wanted to ask her to stay for breakfast, but it appeared she had more important things to do than stay with him. She was probably embarrassed that she had been so vulnerable. Either way, he anticipated much confusion on her part; he was looking forward to it.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a few days before she saw Draco again. She had been watching James and Al while their parents took a short break, and it had kept her chasing after them through the halls. Al was already walking, and one of his uncles had had the bright idea to give him a toy broom. Luckily, he couldn’t actually use it well yet, so there was no flying in the halls.

When she did finally see Draco, it was because they were finally buckling down on the vaccine. They had planned to be in the lab as much as possible. If they weren’t helping each other brew, Hermione was running numbers, and Draco was making sure they ate something. There were three potions that had a 90% chance of success without modification with the same concentration of the virus. Hermione didn’t have enough information on modifications to calculate the exact chances of their success, so they were playing things by ear at this point. 

“Thanks again,” she said quietly as she set up her station. 

“Of course,” he smiled. 

Those eyes, she realized, were the most delicately gorgeous grey she had ever seen. She hadn’t noticed them before—at least not with the notice they deserved—and she mourned the time she could have spent looking into them. 

“You okay?” He asked.

Catching herself still staring into his eyes, she blushed. “Yes. I’m fine.” She went to look in the storeroom, but kept daydreaming about him holding her. It had been so warm, so comforting, so...perfect. 

“Hermione?” He had said her name. Merlin, he had actually used her first name. It wasn’t just a mistake last night. “Hermione? It’s been fifteen minutes. It doesn’t normally take you this long. Are you sure you’re okay?”

She quickly grabbed what she had needed and returned to a very concerned look on his face. “I’m fine. Really. Just distracted today.”

He didn’t seem mollified by the excuse, even if it was accurate. She was distracted by his face, his arms, his smile, his kindness, by everything about him.

Draco snapped his fingers and she jolted. “You were daydreaming again. Want to tell me what’s got your mind in a knot?”

“No, you’re right, we need to focus.” She pulled her hair back. “We were going to try to add alihotsy to the Wiggenweld today, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. If you could try adding it as the first ingredient, I’ll try adding it after the lionfish spines.”

They worked in silence for the next three hours, brewing and making notes. After breaking for lunch, the testing on lab rats was to begin. The process was hastened by a handy little “fast-forward” spell they’d developed to go through testing more quickly. They went to dinner with failure on their minds, and returned to the lab afterwards to reevaluate their progress. Every time Draco got close to her, time seemed to freeze. She became acutely aware of where he was, and despite how distracting he was, she felt drawn to him.

* * *

They spent the whole last week of June testing variations on the Wiggenweld potion with no luck. The basic Healing Potion was to be tested over the next two weeks, so they started Monday morning ready to go. At least, Hermione did. She was still occasionally distracted by Draco (his voice!), but focusing on the fact that people were literally dying did help. 

She was sitting on a stool in the lab, reviewing her notes when Draco put his hands down on the table across from her. “What on earth is going with you?” He demanded. “You’re normally the most focused person in the world, but somehow you can’t get it together to work with me on this project? I put up with it last week, but so help me if it continues this week, I’m asking Entwhistle to help.”

Her teeth found her bottom lip as she tried to figure out a response. He kept going. “This didn’t start until after that night, so clearly something happened that you’re embarrassed about and can’t seem to get over.”

“I—“ she started.

“I don’t want excuses, Hermione. I want you to tell me the truth. If you don’t want to work with me, then I want to know so we can fix this.”

She sighed and put her head in her hands. “You’re distracting me,” she finally mumbled.

“Did you say that I was distracting you? How on earth—Oh. Oh!” He smiled as she looked up at him. “I’m distracting you because you think I’m attractive.”

“Hush. I didn’t say that.”

“No,” he teased, “but you clearly meant it. Well then, this isn’t a problem in the slightest. Or rather, it still is, but I’m not going to do anything to change how attractive I am.”

“You could keep saying things like that. Smugness isn’t flattering.”

“So, what would you like to do about this? Burgeoning sexual tension is never conducive to lab environments.”

“I would like,” she ground out, “to pretend this conversation never happened. I was  _ planning _ on having better focus from now on, but you had to go and bring all of this up. There is no sexual tension. You’re just attractive.”

“We’ll see.” He pulled his notebook out of his bag. “What are we working on today?”

* * *

Draco seemed to be looking at her more. Not when she was looking at him, but out of the corner of her eye she would see him glancing at her. He circled around her like a moon, wanting to be a part of what she was doing, but keeping his distance.

She definitely did not like Draco Malfoy. Aesthetically, he was quite pleasing. He also had a mellifluous voice, talent in potions, and an overall demeanor that she found attractive. But she didn’t like Draco Malfoy. If she liked him, she wouldn’t find excuses to be anywhere but he was because he made her nervous. If she liked him, she wouldn’t be insisting to herself that absolutely nothing was going on between them.

_ All of this sounds exactly like what someone with an infatuation would do _ .  _ You do like him; you just don’t want to admit it. _

_ I can’t like him _ , she argued, _ he hates me. _

_ Hermione, he let you sleep in his bed next to him when you were having nightmares at two in the morning. I think he very much likes you _ .  _ What would you do if he told you tomorrow that he was interested in you? _

That caught her off guard.  _ I would kiss him. _

_ There you go! You do like him! _

_ I still don’t think he likes me like that. _

_ He likes you. Do something about it besides staring at him and daydreaming. _

_ When we’re done. We can’t be distracted by anything else. _

_ Pfft. It’s not like it’s not distracting you now. _

* * *

“Okay, done basic healing with stasis—failed. Basic healing with additional dittany and stasis—failed. I don’t understand how we could have done as many tests as we have, and we still haven’t gotten any closer to finding the solution,” Draco said as he threw his hands in the air. “Can you run the numbers to get us any closer?”

“I’m trying!” She growled as her hair grew bushier. “I can’t even pin down whether this potion or a variation on a Calming Draught would work better because both of them have the same numbers but we’re just…”

“Missing something?” He asked, looking into her eyes.

“Missing something,” she repeated.

“Why don’t we check the library?” He asked, pulling her out of the door.

“Did you know,” He whispered, despite them being the only ones inside, “that I watched you in the library on occasion. I know exactly where your favorite study desk is.” He led her back to a secluded corner, the desk where she had remembered it.

“Spying on me?” She asked.

“Admiring you,” he corrected, getting closer. 

“Weren’t we supposed to be doing research?”

“I’m doing some research of my own,” he smiled. “I’d like to find out what would happen if I kissed you.”

Her breath caught, and before she had a chance to inhale, Draco had pressed his lips against hers. It felt  _ good. _ She couldn’t tell if it was because it was him or if she just hadn’t been kissed in a very long time, but she was definitely up for testing that hypothesis. She had to pull back to breathe in, but immediately found his lips again, teasing his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. They broke apart one more time as he lifted her up onto the edge of the desk, standing between her legs. “I like this research,” she said, out of breath.

“Me too,” he smirked as he twined a hand through her hair, the other wrapping around her back. 

She couldn’t help the little moan she let out as he continued to kiss her. This, she concluded, wasn’t just wanting to kiss again. This was wanting to kiss him again. Over and over and over again. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he said as he pulled away from her face, a hand moving to lace through hers. “And I wanted it even more when you admitted you thought I was attractive.”

“Well, you are. And, I think I wanted it then as well. I just couldn’t admit it to myself. Besides, I’ve always wanted to kiss in the library,” she laughed.

He smiled at her and leaned his forehead against hers. “We needed a break, and I was hoping this would be what we needed.”

“Yes, and let’s do it again.”

* * *

It wasn’t until the beginning of August when they finally made headway with a modified Healing Potion. They’d needed to imbue it with more spells than the original stasis spell, and there were at least three times as many ingredients as the standard potions had, but it was a vaccine, which also meant that students could safely return to Hogwarts. Hermione had been ignoring the case counts in favor of focusing, but they had risen dramatically over the course of the summer. The nice weather gave the false impression of security, and people just wanted to not be isolated any more. There were at least one hundred in stasis in St. Mungo’s, while another fifty had died before they were able to have any treatment. 

St. Mungo’s research for a cure was slow going. They were able to manage some of the symptoms, but it didn’t truly get rid of the virus and had some nasty side effects. She and Draco were going to switch their efforts after the school year had started again. This time the burden wasn’t going to be on them nearly as much, but they were still willing to help. 

A massive vaccination drive had been held with families traveling from all over the country over the course of a week to private Portkey, Floo, or Apparition zones where they could be tested for the virus and then given the vaccine. By the end of it, 70% of the British wizarding population had been vaccinated. 

There had been a rather large uproar over the announcement of the vaccine from a militant little group that insisted that it was a mind control poison. Even when the leader of the group came down with and died from basilisk pox, the rest of the rallied and claimed that he’d been killed in a way that made it look like basilisk pox to keep him from warning the masses. Hermione had given a significant eye roll to Draco when he read her the news.

At the very least, the Hogwarts staff and students had gotten it, and it had been a requirement to return to school this year. There were a few holdouts, which had taken Minerva’s intervention to handle. Most of the students were looking forward to a relatively normal school year.

* * *

They were curled up on the couch when he brought it up. "Do you want to tell people about this?"

"This being us?" He nodded. "I think it would be very uncomfortable to have students commenting on our relationship while we're still trying to figure it out ourselves. I don't want questions about marriage or kids or anything like that before we're ready to have those conversations on our own. And if we tell the other teachers, they're not necessarily going to be discreet on our behalf."

Draco held her tighter and kissed the top of her head. "It has the added bonus of getting to keep you all to myself. A secret that I actually enjoy having."

"Ground rules: no public displays of affection, even in teasing."

"Makes sense. What about when we're doing rounds, and we're the only ones in the hallway?"

She laughed. "Then feel free to publicly display affection."

"Okay, rule two. No telling anyone, and that includes Ginny. Because Ginny will tell Harry, and inevitably James will overhear, and that kid cannot keep a secret to save his life."

"Oh, but Al can!" Hermione smiled. 

Draco touched her nose slightly and smiled back. "That's because he can't talk yet. But trust me, give him a few years, and he'll be spilling all of Potter's secrets just like his older brother."

She started playing with the threads on the blanket, biting her lower lip as she thought. "Is there anyone you would want to tell?"

Draco sighed. "I would like to tell my mother, but I don't know how she'll react, and I just don't want to get involved without right now. I still can't tell if her change in views is genuine or to ease her social climb. I don't want to argue about how you're not worthless."

"That makes sense," she said as she leaned her head onto his shoulder. "So, it's our little secret.”

* * *

This year, Hermione’s birthday was on a Wednesday. Another awkward, middle of the week birthday. This year she only invited Ron, Ginny, and Harry to her quarters for a relatively quiet dinner, Molly having offered to watch the boys. It was nice to have something so small, but she kept wishing Draco could be there with her. He had planned something for the weekend with her, but she still missed him.

“You alright?” Ron asked. “You seem a bit tired.”

“I am, a bit. I had to teach the ethics class for the third years this morning, and then I had to be primary for the O.W.L. And N.E.W.T. Study session.” 

“Minerva not let you get out of that this year?” Ginny teased.

“I didn’t ask. I don’t mind teaching or helping, but it made me more tired than I expected. How are the first years?”

“Hooch has the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors this year, so I get to handle the Slytherins and Ravenclaws, who all, for some reason, would prefer to ask me about how brooms are made and the charms involved than actually fly.”

Hermione laughed, “So what do you tell them?”

“That they can spend their own study time doing that and that my time with them is for flying. They still kept asking questions.”

“You could always just have a lecture at the beginning of the year about broom basics and charms.”

“And Quidditch rules!” Ron interjected. 

“Sure, and those,” Hermione responded with good humor.

“Who are you coaching this year?” Ron asked Ginny.

“Same Houses as the ones I’m teaching.”

“You don’t feel bad about coaching against Gryffindor?”

She shook her head.

Hermione was pretty sure the conversation had kept going, but everything went a little fuzzy when Quidditch was involved. (She tried, she really did.) Harry and Ginny eventually said goodbye, leaving Ron behind.

“I started going out with Demelza Robins,” he mentioned casually.

The name sounded familiar. “Do I know her?”

“Probably not,” he laughed. “She was a couple of years younger than us, though she was in Gryffindor.”

“How’d you guys reconnect?”

“She’s coaching the Harpies now, and we met at a game. She’s really sweet.”

“I’m so happy for you!” she exclaimed as she got up to give him a hug.

“Really?” he asked, taken aback. “You’re not upset?”

“Ronald Weasley, we have been broken up for years now, and I  _ have _ dated other people in the time since then. Even you have dated other people since then.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I don’t know. We’re getting pretty serious, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay if I got married before you did.”

“Ron, you are incredibly thoughtful, but I’m not the least bit jealous of you--or of her. I’m genuinely happy for you two.”

* * *

Hermione and Draco still hadn’t had a first real date. In between completion and production and distribution of the virus, combined with school starting up again, there just hadn’t been time. There’d been quick kisses and occasional drinks in each other’s quarters, but nothing that Hermione would reasonably call a date.

This weekend, apparently Draco was committed to making a date happen. Both had used the excuse of research to beg off from any other responsibilities, so they were completely alone in his quarters. He’d laid out an impressive dinner of coq au vin with some freshly baked bread, and Hermione had never felt more attracted to him. “This looks incredible,” she smiled. “When did you learn to cook?”

“My apprenticeship wasn’t limited to the potions lab.”

“You mean you also had a cooking apprenticeship on top of a potions one?”

“Not at all,” he said as he pulled out her chair. “My master didn’t keep a house elf, and after I burned a couple of meals when he was too busy with a potion to make us dinner, he taught me some things.”

“Only  _ some _ things?” she teased.

“I enjoyed it and kept learning. It’s exactly what you would do,” he pointed out. “Can you cook?”

“I can, but I prefer to do other things, and I often get so wrapped up in a book that I forget to eat,” she admitted as she cut into her food. “I don’t think I could ever forget this meal, though.”

* * *

“I don’t think I told you how much I loved that journal,” she said to him later as they sat in front of the fire. 

“You didn’t have to. I saw you using it all the time. I actually got you a second one in case your first had filled up.”

“That’s an amazingly sweet gift,” she sighed.

“It’s not your only one,” he corrected her. 

“Oh, is the other one of your addicting kisses?”

He gave her a kiss just for that. “No, but you can count it as a gift if you want. No, I got you something a bit more befitting a girlfriend.”

She blushed slightly and then frowned. “It better not be a ring.”

“It’s not, but good to know where you’re at on that.” He unwound himself from her arms. “Let me go grab it.” 

As she watched the flames crackle, she was comforted by how different things were now. She didn’t think she would ever find that happiness with Draco Malfoy, but magic had a strange way of working things out.


	7. Chapter 7

Christmas Eve, Hermione had told him, was always spent at the Burrow. In previous years it had been Christmas Day that they all got together, but with the growth of everyone’s families, it seemed reasonable to move the get together.

She turned around to face him as she adjusted her scarf. “I really wish you could come,” she sighed. “This would be so much easier if we just told everyone about us.”

“You could always pretend that you’re ill. Came down with a headache or something like that.”

He loved seeing her eyes light up at the idea. “Of course, it’s not contagious or anything, I just need to lie down in a dark and quiet room for the day.” Her face fell. “I do have to bring my Christmas gifts to everyone, and I’m sure they’re going to want to give some in return. I can’t just avoid them.”

“No,” he smiled, “but you can very easily fake your escape with a headache at any point, and then you and I can spend some time together.”

She nodded. “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll back beside you in front of the fire.”

* * *

It was a lonely few hours as Draco sat down in his sitting room, attempting not to look at the permanent _Tempus_ he had cast. The minutes ticked by and he felt so alone. He had done Christmas mostly alone before, but this was the first time he truly cared enough about someone.

Charlotte had been a great woman. She was kind, sweet, gentle, and everything he had wanted post-war. But she wanted more from him than he could give. She wanted him to start a family with her, and at the time, that thought had terrified him. He didn’t want to end up like his father—power hungry and desperate for outside validation at the cost of his family. She kept telling him how unlike his father he was and how different it would be when it was _their_ children, but he couldn’t do it. 

It wasn’t because of Hermione that things were different. It was because of the things he had learned since he had been with Charlotte. He was grateful he had learned them in time for Hermione to see the difference. To see the man he had become rather than who he was. 

His mother, he was sure, saw him as a boy. A boy before the Mark had forced him to grow up. He didn’t want to endure Christmas with her pointing out all the women he could possibly marry and pointing out all of the flaws of the women he couldn’t possibly marry for whatever ridiculous reason. He didn’t want to be having Christmas dinner in a nearly empty dining room, the two of them the only occupants at an excessively long table. 

Hermione came in through the Floo, jolting him out of his reverie. She carried nothing in her arms, but he knew the purse at her side carried her haul of presents from friends and family. “I have a _terrible_ headache,” she groaned with a smile.

“Leaving early was absolutely the right idea, my dear. Come, let me kiss it better.”

She practically leapt onto the couch to snuggle up with him. “Did you miss me?”

“Dreadfully.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Of course not. I much rather spend Christmastime with you rather than on my own. Would you like to show me your gifts?”

She nodded with excitement and turned on the couch so she could pull things out. 

* * *

At some point during the second week of January, Draco stayed in his office to go over some assignments on his own. Hermione had had something to do, and he didn’t really feel like being in his quarters without her. The stack of papers he had to grade was much larger than he wanted it to be, but most of his free time was being spent hunched over a cauldron for either the hospital wing or the cure. 

A very timid knock hit his door. “Come in,” he announced.

A tiny first year girl peeked her head in. “I’m so sorry, sir, but--” she said before melting down in tears.

He swiftly put down his quill and came around in front of his desk, conjuring a handkerchief and placing it in her hands as he directed her to a soft chair in front of the fire. He pulled one of the other chairs up next to her and sat there quietly while she continued to cry a little bit longer. “All dried up?” he asked her with a smile.

She gave a small chuckle. “For now.”

“What’s the matter, Miss Clarke?”

“I can’t find any of my shoes. Or any of my other things. They keep going missing.” 

He looked down to see that her feet were just covered by her stockings. He thanked Luna silently as he went to his desk to pull out a pair of slippers. He handed them to Miss Clarke, spelling them to fit after she did put them on. “Has this been going on all year?” he asked gently.

She nodded. “Yes, and I know I should have come sooner but I kept thinking if I could be better friends with them, they wouldn’t take my things. Or, at very least, they would give them back.”

“Did you speak with Miss Handler?”

“I did, last week. Because I didn’t want to be a tattle-tale. And then all she said was that I should try to be nicer to them, which I had already tried,” she said as she started crying again.

“I’ll speak to Miss Handler about that,” he said. “But I will also speak to the girls that have been tormenting you.”

“How did you know it was the girls?”

“I know everything,” he said in an attempt to get her to smile. 

“Thank you, Professor Malfoy. My mom said that she didn’t trust you, but I think I trust you a lot.”

His heart had broken a little realizing how many parents could have said the same to their children, but it was repaired a bit by the trust he was given by this small child. “Thank you as well, Miss Clarke. Why don’t I walk you back to your dorm? I’ll visit with the others tomorrow morning.”

She nodded. As they walked down the halls together, he asked her casually about her classes and how she liked Hogwarts. Besides the casual bullying from her dormmates, she seemed to be enjoying it. The bullying, though, would be a large problem, especially since he hadn’t been able to stop it sooner.

He walked into the common room the next morning before anyone had had a chance to get up. He roused Miss Handler with his Patronus first, insisting that she dress and meet him within ten minutes. She arrived wiping sleep from her eyes, but in her uniform. “How have you been handling the first year girls?” He asked her sternly.

“They’ve been fine,” she yawned. “Miss Clarke told me last week she had had some troubles getting along with her, but once she started being nicer to them, the problem seemed to go away.”

“Miss Handler,” he snapped. “I do not believe you have been handling your prefect duties adequately. When someone is being bullied, you do not tell them to be nicer to the bullies. Miss Clarke was not, in fact, doing better after you spoke to her. She simply did not think you would be of any more help to her. You are on probation for your duties as of now. Depending on your behavior for the remainder of this year, you may or may not be returning as prefect for next year.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not be a prefect at all.”

“Fine, then. I will take your prefect badge and see you in detention once a week until the end of May.” Her eyes widened at the punishment. “Abdicating responsibility would have been fine if you’d come to me and explained why you no longer felt comfortable or able to do your duties. Instead, since you seem to think the duties beneath you, I am not going to increase the amount of free time you’d gain by not following through for the rest of the year.”

“So if I hadn’t said anything I wouldn’t be in detention?”

“That’s usually the case, yes,” he responded. “Now please go wake all of the girls from the first year dorm except for Miss Clarke. If I find out that you woke her, you will have two detentions a week—one with myself and one with Professor Weasley.” She seemed to perk up a bit at that. “I know for a fact that his detentions all involve excessive amounts of manure being shoveled all by yourself, so don’t get too excited by the prospect.”

In another ten minutes, the young girls had all filed in, looking alternately confused and scared. “What’s going on?” One of them finally asked. “Why isn’t Clarke here?”

“Clarke isn’t here because she got locked out of the dormitory late last night and no one thought to come let me know she wasn’t in bed before curfew. Would any of you like to tell me why she came to see me last night?” None of them looked up at him. “Alright, then. I want twenty four inches on how to be kind to people who are different from you on my desk by curfew. If I find them lacking in any way, you’ll be assigned a week’s worth of detention. More importantly, if I find that your behavior hasn’t changed, you’ll end up with two week’s worth of detention. Further, if you have worsened your behavior or made it worse and hidden it from me, I will talk to Minerva about expulsion.” They gasped at that. “You don’t have to be best friends with everyone, but you should at very least not be mean to them. I’ll see you all at breakfast.”

This wasn’t the fun part of being a Head of House; this was entirely too much like parenting for his comfort. When he had wanted to be a surrogate family member, he had wanted to be like an uncle, or maybe an older brother. Father, on the other hand, that was pushing it.

* * *

“When did things change for you?” Hermione asked as they brewed one evening.

“Between us, or in general?” he responded, carefully chopping sophorous beans.

“Both,” she shrugged.

“The summer between fifth and sixth year. Being on the Inquisitorial Squad seemed more like a game than anything else. The Dark Mark was another matter entirely.” He set down his knife. “My father had displeased Voldemort by not killing you and your friends. My family was out of favor because my classmates were still alive. The only thing I could do to spare my mother was to accept the Dark Mark.

“She probably wishes she could have sacrificed herself in my place. I thought my acceptance into His ranks was inevitable, and I wanted to do it on my terms. I never really wanted to kill Dumbledore, though. The plan was to buy myself time to make someone else do it for me.”

“As dreadful as the outcome was, your repair of the Vanishing Cabinet was an impressive bit of charm work, especially at sixteen,” Hermione interjected. 

“Yes, well, the threat of death tends to be a good motivator,” he drawled. “Regardless, my commitment to Voldemort was absolutely broken when I saw you on our ballroom floor, tortured by my aunt. You held out for longer than I’ve ever seen anyone fight against her, and all you’d done to deserve it in her eyes is be friends with Potter and be born in the non-magical world. The smartest woman in the world was going to die in front of me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

“You saved us, you know,” she added softly. “Your hesitance in identifying us bought us time.”

“That’s what Potter said at my trial. That, and my hesitance in killing the headmaster is what kept me from ending up in Azkaban,” he mentioned. “I guess I realized that if my father was wrong about Voldemort, he was probably wrong about everything else as well. House arrest gave me entirely too much time to think about that sort of thing.”

“So, what about us?”

“I did tell you I used to watch you in the library,” he reminded her.

“I mean, when did you consider me a serious option?”

“Last January,” he said casually. “I wanted to date again and the virus had significantly limited my options.”

“Why not pick Astoria?”

“I wanted to,” he explained, “but we went on a date over Christmas break, and we just didn’t click. She wanted courting, formality, and a perfect pureblood husband. That isn’t me anymore. When did you change your mind about me?”

“February,” she said in a small voice, almost sounding embarrassed about the fact.

He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that fascinating?” he teased. “And to think, we could have been together for so much longer if we’d both just said something.”

“February is when things started to change,” she corrected. “Valentine’s Day made me lonely, and my options were also very limited.”

“Not interested in Rivers or Entwhistle?”

“Entwhistle is an overbearing ninny who thinks he deserves every woman that he’s interested in. Rivers and I dated a few years back and it was a debacle.” He smirked at this information as she continued. “I finally decided I wanted to get to know the real you, not just the character I’d created in my head. You seemed genuinely nice, and working with you kept me on my toes. I was finally matching wits with someone. The real turn, though, was the night at the end of June. You really do remind me of Mr. Darcy in some ways. And I also agree that Pansy was a lot like Caroline Bingley.”

He gaped at her. “You were awake?”

She nodded sheepishly. “Your voice was too wonderful to sleep through. I started to believe something could actually work between us.”

He couldn’t help himself as he moved to kiss her. “I’m glad I came back from France,” he murmured against her lips.

* * *

The one thing Draco kept getting hung up on was that there was no clear source for Patient Zero for the virus. The first few cases had died before anyone had known there was something different this time around. Healers had been unable to trace any direct link to a mutation of dragon pox, so they had been mostly working off of the cure for dragon pox to make the cure for basilisk pox.

It didn’t sit right with him, though. In his gut, he felt like it had been deliberately released into the community. Hermione insisted that they shouldn’t attribute to malice what could be explained by incompetence, but he still couldn’t shake the sense that there was something horribly wrong. There was a magical signature embedded in the virus itself that wasn’t present in the dragon pox virus. That discovery finally turned Hermione around to his perspective.

They’d quickly discarded the notion that the creator had been one of the first deaths, as there had been no evidence that suggested that to be true. Since the virus killed indiscriminately, it could have been anyone that had been for or against Voldemort. They had to be incredibly smart to manipulate a virus like that, and Hermione was fairly sure they had to have some sort of non-magical education. “Perhaps,” she mused one night, “they had an idea that got out of control. And now they’re too scared to provide the research that could help in saving everyone.”

“That’s plausible,” he nodded, threading his fingers through hers. “Finding them could help us find the notes we need to reach a breakthrough.”

* * *

The students were home for break, and Draco was excited. Hermione had planned on spending some time in Paris with Ginny, so he hadn’t seen her since they’d left right after seeing the Hogwarts Express off. He didn’t mind the quiet in his quarters, but he did miss her every time he saw a book of hers lying on his table or nightstand. 

There was a knock at the door one afternoon, and he opened it to see Potter on the other side. “Hermione left Paris early. Ginny said that Hermione had had some sort of realization about the cure and had left to go chase after a lead. We just got word from St. Mungo’s--”

Draco froze. “Hermione got sick?” he asked, knowing he was going to hate the answer.

Harry nodded. “She’s in isolation right now. They’ve put her in a medically induced coma like the rest of them.” 

Draco fell into the chair behind him. “How did this happen?”

“The healers said there’s a chance she contracted it from the tests you guys were running, but that there’s a possibility she was infected from the source.” Harry shrugged. “But we’re not going to know until Hermione wakes up, since she was unconscious when we found her.”

“We were so careful with our tests,” Draco said quietly. “So I think she had a run-in that she never got to tell us about.”

“Reminds me of my second year here when she found out about the basilisk and then immediately got petrified,” Harry smiled. “We found a clue hidden in her hand when we went to visit her in the hospital wing.”

They suddenly locked eyes. “We need to search her room.”

Draco didn’t have Floo access to Hermione’s rooms, so they had to go the long way across the castle. “Why did you come to see me?” he finally asked Harry.

“You two aren’t that subtle,” Harry laughed. “I’m pretty sure even the students know you have it bad for each other. Hermione has worn her heart on her sleeve like the consummate Gryffindor, and apparently being in love is unusual enough for you that you haven’t been nearly as sneaky about things as a consummate Slytherin might be.

Draco sighed. “Okay, so we could have been a bit more discreet. Why aren’t you throwing more of a fuss about it?”

“Because she loves you. And you’re not that bad of a guy. If you two had gotten together in school when you were still pretending to be a worse person than you are, then I might have been a bit more upset about it. I was also a lot more hotheaded back then as well, so that wouldn’t have helped.”

“Who else knows?”

“Ginny, obviously. She pointed it out before I even considered it, though I’m surprised she didn’t coax it out of Hermione first.”

Draco laughed, “She’s been stressing about that for the last month. It’ll be good for her to talk to Ginny about all of this.” He stopped for a moment. “After she wakes up, I guess.”

Harry put a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Weren’t you guys getting close to a fix?”

“Yeah, we thought we were just missing a piece, but we haven’t found it yet.”

“Bet you five Galleons Hermione already has.”

Apparently Hermione’s wards recognized them, because they entered her room without any problem. The tables were organized chaos, and Draco tried to avoid moving things around too much. The kitchen table had the most notes, as well as a very cold cup of tea. Harry found a sheet on top with a list of names, a few of them circled. “Can you make any connection between these?” he asked Draco. “The only name I recognize is Kevin’s, and his name is circled.”

“He must be on Hermione’s short list of suspects,” Draco thought aloud. 

“Suspects?” Harry replied in shock. “You’re telling me that someone created this virus deliberately?”

“Most likely,” Draco responded absentmindedly, trying to make the connections Hermione had already seen. “I think we need to go pay his quarters a visit.”

Entwhistle’s quarters were quiet, but Draco undid the wards in very little time. “Could you do that to everyone’s quarters?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“What are we looking for? Anything that looks suspicious?”

“More or less. Be careful, though. Hermione could have gotten sick here, and so there’s a chance you could end up the same way.”

The quarters themselves were bare of any notes, so they visited Entwhistle’s private lab instead. The whole thing was scrubbed clean. There were no notes, no experiments running. It was as if Entwhistle had never even been in there.

“Something about this place gives me the creeps,” Harry shuddered. “But I don’t see any evidence that it was Entwhistle.”

“Magical signature,” Draco said suddenly. “We need to find something with his trace on it and see if it matches up with the one in the virus.”

“Clearly you’re going to have to explain a lot to me after this is all over, because all of this is news.”

“You know detection spells, right?”

“Defense professor, Draco, of course I know detection spells.”

“Great, find me something that has a sample of the trace and bring it to my lab. I’m going to get some tests set up that we can run to tell if it’s a match.”

Draco practically jogged to his lab to get things set up. If it really had been Entwhistle that had created this, things weren’t going to end well. The man had been unassuming enough, and perhaps that was what had led him to the development in the first place. He had felt underappreciated for his talents and wanted to prove that he could do things, even if he was only teaching children. Draco understood that. He had wanted to be more than the name Malfoy--to stand on his own and say that his family valued more important things than blood purity now. He could maybe give Entwhistle the benefit of the doubt that he never meant to let it get so out of hand, but now that Hermione may have been deliberately infected, he wasn’t so sure.

Apparently Entwhistle relied on Summoning Charms to retrieve books, since the item that Harry brought back was an edition of a non-magical science textbook. It had been Summoned enough times that there was a strong lingering trace. Draco began running the tests, each one proving more and more that it was in fact Entwhistle’s magical signature imbued in the virus. “I am going to kill him,” he snarled.

“We can’t do that until he gives us his notes for the cure,” Harry reminded him. “We still need him. After that, you probably still shouldn’t kill him. Hermione’s not a big fan of visiting Azkaban.”

“Fine,” Draco growled. “Let’s hunt the bastard down.”

Minerva hadn’t heard anything from Entwhistle since the beginning of break. She presumed he wasn’t staying at the school since he wasn’t assigned any duties for monitoring students. “There’s not much I can do besides check the wards for him, and as far as I can tell, he isn’t within Hogwarts at all.” She had a list of contacts for him, but despite spending half a day Apparating across the country, Harry and Draco hadn’t been able to find any evidence of the man. They headed back to Entwhistle’s quarters in a last ditch effort to find a clue. “You really don’t think it’d be as easy as an Accio to find any of his notes?” Harry laughed. 

“Worth a try,” Draco muttered. “ _Accio virus notes._ ” In shock, the two of them watched as a notebook flew straight into his hands. “That--that should not have worked,” he stuttered.

As they flipped through it, the notes seemed to become increasingly sloppy, but even then, there were things in here that Draco could use. A cure was within reach, and Hermione could be safe again. 

“I’ll be in my lab for the foreseeable future,” he told Harry. “Talk to Minerva and Ginny about this only. I don’t want Entwhistle getting wind of what we’ve found and returning to ruin everything.”

_This has to work,_ Draco thought feverishly as he started working. Hermione had been so much better at Arithmancy than he was, but he would make do. He would make do for _her._

The day turned into night, and then back into day and night again. Draco rarely left the lab, falling asleep on the table while potions were resting. His house elf brought him meals, leaving them near him to remind him to actually eat. It was the end of break before he finally went to St. Mungo’s. They could deal with Entwhistle and tracking him down after everyone had been helped.

He hadn’t actually been able to test the cure on any humans yet, so he chose Hermione as their first test subject. They removed her from the magical coma, but she still kept sleeping. They were able to spell the potion directly from the vial into her stomach, but at that point, all he could do was wait. He had known from the lab rat tests that it took a long time even with their small bodies, but it was so much different knowing that it was _her_ that the cure was working through. Time dragged and he started dozing off.

“Draco?” he heard a weakened voice say through his tired haze. “Is that you?”


	8. Chapter 8

Waking up had not been an easy process for Hermione, but her recovery had been significantly better than that of most of the others. Atrophied muscles were common, especially in the long term cases. She felt weakened, but she was still able to walk, albeit haltingly.

Draco had sent a Patronus to Harry and Ginny, and in short order the three of them were in her hospital room. She filled them in on what had happened after she had left Ginny behind.

“I had brought our list of names to keep looking over,” she explained. 

“You couldn’t just relax?” Ginny asked in exasperation.

Hermione gave a short laugh. “When has that ever been true?” She gave a small shrug. “I kept going back to Entwhistle. He had been annoyingly persistent in asking about the vaccine and the cure when we were working on them, wanting to know what we were trying and how it was working. At the time, I just assumed he was curious and a bit jealous that he wasn’t involved in the process. But, I still wanted to be sure, so I went to talk to him.”

“But you didn’t bring anyone with you!” Harry pointed out.

“Yes, because I didn’t realize that he was going to actually poison me. I figured any stunt he was going to pull was something I could duel myself out of. I was wrong, and I’m sorry I didn’t ask one of you to help me.”

“What did he do to you?” Draco asked.

“I’m not quite sure. When I confronted him, he gave a classic speech about how he was unnoticed and unappreciated and just wanted to be  _ seen _ and then things got out of control. I think he hit me with a stunner and then exposed me to the virus. I woke up in his quarters and immediately came here, since I was worried that he had done exactly that.”

“How did you miss a stunner?” Harry asked in astonishment.

“Does it really matter now?” Hermione groaned. “I’m better now, we have the cure, and we know who did it. Where  _ did  _ you find the answers?” she turned and asked Draco.

“ _ Accio _ ,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “Least unprotected thing I’ve ever seen, thank goodness for us.”

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, reaching for his hand. “You figured out the solution and you saved all of us. The Malfoy name is going to be much better off now.”

Draco shook his head. “The Malfoy name would be much better off if you shared it.” He smoothly got down on one knee beside her bed. “Hermione, will you marry me?”

The world seemed to stop and Hermione never wanted to get off. She stared for eternity into his silver eyes, ones that had seemed so cold but now seemed so warm and inviting. She loved him so much. 

"Yes," she breathed. "Of course I will."

He swept her into a kiss before a nurse came in and shooed them all out so that Hermione could get some more rest. 

Draco came back the next day with a ring--and news of Entwhistle's reappearance. "Which do you want first?" he asked her. 

"News," she smiled, "since I know I'll be obsessing over the ring."

"Alright then," he replied, pulling up a chair to the side of her bed. "Entwhistle had the nerve to show up to teach after spring break, as if nothing had happened. As soon as he entered the grounds, Minerva had a group of Aurors surrounding him. He's in custody now, and his classes are on hold until she finds a suitable replacement. I guess he thought he had gotten away with it."

"Seems too convenient," she muttered.

"It does," Draco agreed, "But the guilt could have been weighing on him, or any number of less malicious things."

"Can I see the ring now?" Hermione asked eagerly. 

His excitement for her was evident as he pulled the family heirloom from his pocket. It was a delicate pearl and sapphire white gold ring that magically resized to fit her finger. "It's charmed to resist damage," he explained, "so the pearl will hold up just fine with daily wear."

"Oh, Draco, it's gorgeous."

He smiled. "Just like you."

* * *

They had decided to go to the 10th Anniversary Ball together. Given that they were now engaged, neither of them had wanted to keep it hidden. Hermione had given up trying to convince Draco to tell his mother before the ball. He argued that he wanted to enjoy the world where no one disapproved a little bit longer. The potential situation with his mother could wait until after their debut. 

Classes had resumed as normal, Hermione having recovered quickly enough to not have missed more than a week of lessons. She had put off dress shopping until Ginny finally dragged her out of the Castle a week before the ball.

“You have to wear something amazing,” Ginny insisted. “You’ll be on the arm of who was previously thought to be the bachelor of the year. Plus, you deserve to look and feel your best.”

Hermione let herself be dragged to Twilfit and Tattings, her celebrity status allowing her priority over some of the others looking for last minute ball gowns. After an insane number of dresses, she finally settled on a silver halter back dress that flattered her shoulders and matched Draco’s eyes. Non-magical style had slowly infiltrated the magical world, and formal non-magical wear was seen as often as dress robes were. Ginny, for her part, found a silky green dress that flattered her once again growing belly. “I told Harry this was the last,” she mentioned as she had searched for a pregnancy friendly dress. 

“I don’t blame you,” Hermione said. “‘watching James and Al is crazy enough as it is.”

“I’m just grateful Mum is willing to watch them as often as she does. Minerva has also been wonderful with scheduling Harry and I opposite each other so that at least one of us is free to be with the little ones.”

“is it weird to have children in Hogwarts?”

“A little bit. Mostly because we’re the only family that all stays at the castle. And none of the professors seemed to have family when we were in school.”

Hermione pondered this as they paid for their dresses. “I hadn’t ever thought about it, but you’re completely right. I don’t know if any of the Hogwarts staff was married or had kids or anything like that.”

Ginny shrugged. “It felt strange for the first couple of years, but I’ve felt a lot less self conscious about it lately. Speaking of which, are you nervous about the ball and what you’re announcing?”

“I think this dress will help me feel significantly less nervous,” she smiled. “how can I be scared when I know how gorgeous I’ll look?”

* * *

The memorial service was held during the day on May 2. Classes had been canceled, and it seemed like most of the wizarding world was there. They’d held a public memorial service for the first five years, but they had remembered in private since then.

The Golden Trio had been asked to speak for a short time each, joined by Kingsley and McGonagall. The weather was nice enough for everyone to gather on the grounds. Although a very small percentage of those present had been directly involved in fighting the war, everyone attending had been hurt by it. 

“Today,” Kingsley began, “marks ten years since the conclusion of the Second War against Voldemort. We were terrified for years by a man who decided that power was more important than anything else this world could offer. We cannot, however, become complacent. Tom Riddle was not the only person in this world who wanted power. There were many who followed him seeking the same thing. The power you should be reaching for is the power to help others become better, not for the power to tear others down.”

Hermione watched Draco through the speeches as he sat next to his mother. People kept glancing at him, occasionally glaring, as if to say, “you were one of them. You wanted to tear people down.” She was looking forward to giving her speech.

She came right after Ron, who’d chosen to tell stories about the people they’d lost. Ron was good at that. He helped everyone to smile, even if there was still an ache from the holes that had been left in their hearts.

“I see that most of you have noticed Draco Malfoy and his mother in the crowd with us today. I have also seen many of you glaring and whispering about whether or not they have any right to be here. You assume, like I once did, that someone’s character as a child is the same as when they are grown. You assume that people make decisions that lead to bad consequences because they want to do bad things. You assume that ten years isn’t enough time for anyone to change.

“Assumptions, however, are the very things that tear us apart. When we try to work off of assumed information, we make very little progress. Professor Malfoy and I spent a long time with the researchers of St. Mungo’s working on a cure for basilisk pox. Because we believed it to be a naturally occurring illness, we were unable to cross the barriers until we discovered that it had a deliberate creator. After Professor Malfoy found the creator, he was able to produce the cure that has now benefited many people, including myself.

“I have seen so much progress in the magical world since I entered it at eleven. Our community no longer assumes that a person being born with magic into a non-magical family means that that person will be worse off. We have made incredible improvements in the magical and non-magical history and culture classes at Hogwarts, meaning that there are fewer assumptions from those raised in either world. 

“We need each other. We need to be willing to see the good in those around us. Let people change and grow past their childhood years before you decide who they are.”

Draco smiled at her as she stepped down. Perhaps things would go better with his mother than they thought. 

After the ceremony, he gestured her over with his head. “Mother,” he began, “I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée, Professor Hermione Granger.”

Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes went wide but she kept her composure. “It’s lovely to formally meet you, Professor Granger,” she said as she held out her hand.

“Oh, do please call me Hermione, Mrs. Malfoy. It’s lovely to meet you as well,” Hermione said as they shook hands.

“Narcissa, my dear. Since it seems you’re to be my daughter-in-law.” With this she gave a small stern look at her son. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

Before Draco had a chance to say anything, Hermione interrupted, “It was my fault, Narcissa. I didn’t want to tell anyone at all that we were dating, and to tell you the truth, our engagement came as a surprise to both of us. It was quite nice to not have the students hassling us while we were dating and still trying to figure out what we meant to each other.”

“And what do you mean to each other?”

“Quite a lot,” Hermione said as she smiled up at Draco.

* * *

"It's not that I'm embarrassed to be engaged to you," Hermione said as he zipped up her dress later that night. "I'm just really not ready for the fall out. For months during our fourth years I got hate letters and Howlers because of Rita Skeeter's drivel about my supposed love triangle."

Draco grimaced. "I'm sorry I helped with that."

She turned around and kissed him lightly. "I've already forgiven you, remember? Don't keep apologizing."

"It is possible for Hogwarts to keep owls from delivering that sort of thing to us."

She stared at him. "Why didn't anyone tell me that?"

"It's very possible Dumbledore or McGonagall didn't know what was going on. Did you tell anyone?"

"No," she sighed. "But I guess I hoped the ridiculous number of Howlers would have clued them in. At least I can ask her this time around."

Draco pulled her into his arms, his cheek resting against the top of her head. "The letters are more likely to be cursed this time around as well. We don't have to do this right now if you don't want to."

"We do. I want to. I don't want to keep hiding things from the students—"

"Which we're not actually doing that well at, I might add. Some of the Slytherins have mentioned it to me."

"At least that bodes well for their trust in you. As I was saying, I don't want to keep hiding things from the students; I want to be able to leave Hogwarts together and go on actual dates in the wizarding world. And, I'm excited to be married to you," she concluded, looking up at him. "The world has changed over the last ten years, and some people need a reminder of that. They need to remember that people have potential to be better today than they were yesterday."

"Then let's go show the world the power couple they've been missing out on," he winked, offering her his arm. 

* * *

The Ministry ballroom was mostly tastefully decorated for the occasion. There were streamers of gold and silver, but someone had decided that Harry’s lightning bolt scar deserved to be on cupcakes, and he had not been happy about that. 

There had been little reaction when Draco and Hermione had arrived, primarily because they were earlier than most of the other couples. Minerva was not surprised in the slightest, making it seem like omniscience did, in fact, come with the position. 

Ron had thought her slightly mental, but shrugged and said, “As long as you’re happy.”

Rita Skeeter, on the other hand, had a field day, buzzing around to various onlookers and getting their opinions on the relationship. Unfortunately, Skeeter had registered her animagus status, so Hermione no longer had that to hold over her.

“Did you know,” Hermione whispered to Draco as they danced, “that I once kept Skeeter trapped in a jar for a full year?”

He shook his head and smiled down at her. “You’re ruthless,” he replied. 

“I still wish I could do that now,” she said as she tracked the beetle woman across the room.

“Look at me,” he ordered. She guiltily moved her eyes up to meet his. “My mother loves you. Your friends have no complaints about this, and Minerva just keeps smiling like she knew this was going to happen the entire time.”

“Omniscience really does seem to come with the position.”

“Does it really matter what other people think of you?”

“It’s not so much that,” she sighed. “I guess now that I’m here, I’m frustrated that the story tomorrow isn’t going to be about breaking down your assumptions. With Skeeter in charge, the story will be that you and I were secret lovers in school and are finally announcing it to the world.”

“If that’s the story she writes,” he said as the song ended, “then I will buy you a book a week for the summer.”

* * *

Hermione had been right on two accounts. The next morning had brought more Howlers than had been sent in the millennium long history of Hogwarts. Minerva had any letters not sent by their friends diverted to an empty room of the castle to be sorted through later. The Daily Prophet article by Rita Skeeter did, in fact, claim that they had been dating, and that both of them had been seduced by the other side at some moment during the war. After reading it, neither had been exactly sure what Skeeter was claiming.

Going through the letters was rather entertaining when Hermione internalized that these were more about the imagined versions of Draco and herself than they were about their actual selves."'I have never seen such a blatant display of crude sexuality displayed at what was intended to be a family friendly event,'" she read aloud. "'but I suppose that is to be expected from a mudblood slag and a death eater.' Which side is this person on?"

"What 'crude sexuality' were they even talking about?" Harry asked. "I think you guys kissed a couple of times, but it was much tamer than anything I've seen since Hermione recovered."

"You were dancing fairly close," Ginny laughed.

Draco snorted. "It's ballroom dancing; we're supposed to be close." 

“Not nearly close enough,” she responded, waggling her eyebrows. 

“Oi, you, out of their sex life,” Harry shouted from across the room. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

“You’re just jealous,” Draco smirked. 

“This one claims that you’re compensating for something, and you should get with a real girl instead of Hermione,” Harry replied. “And, no, not particularly jealous.”

“Who doesn’t think I’m a real girl?” Hermione yelled.

“Some girl named Tracey, I think,” he said, looking at the pages.

“Tracey Davis?” Draco asked.

“Yeah.”

He gave a short laugh. “She was in our year. Slytherin. Guess she was pining after me all of these years.” He pulled Hermione into his arms as she tried to make her way through the letters to Harry. “Don’t go after her, dear; the attention will just go to her head.” She struggled slightly until he kissed her. “I even liked you more in school, and that’s saying something.”

“I want to try something,” she said after another kiss. “ _ Accio pro-Draco and Hermione letters _ .” Nothing moved. “ _ Accio pro-Draco letters. _ ” Still nothing. “ _ Accio letters that are worth reading.”  _ Two of the remaining pile flew into her hand. One was a letter from an older woman who was “touched to see the pride and prejudices of youth turn into a beautiful relationship.” She wished them the best of luck. They kept that one. The other one attempted to be cruel to the both of them, but was rather funny instead. They did not keep that one, but they did agree that it had been worth reading.

“I’m glad you came back from France,” Hermione said later that night. “And now that your first two years at Hogwarts are over, what would you like to do next?”

“Can we have a year at Hogwarts when people aren’t actively dying?”

“It’s Hogwarts, Draco, that seems to be impossible when Harry’s here.”

“I think I’d like to study medicine. The books we got to research the vaccine were really fascinating, and I think there’s a lot we could offer the non-magical world in terms of treatment.”

“Then let’s do it. I’ll do anything if I get to do it with you.”


	9. Epilogue

**_Breaking: War Veterans and Professors Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger Create A Medical Company for The Magical and Non-Magical Worlds_ **

_ The Drs. Malfoy have launched a company that is the first of its kind in two ways: not only is it the first drug company (rather than apothecary) in the magical world, it is also the first company to straddle both worlds. Their products will be available in both non-magical and magical stores and through various doctors.  _

_ They have also created a therapy office that is flexible enough for the non-magicals and magical in your family. They hope to be able to treat more people in the magical world for mental illnesses, and they also hope to bring many of the magical solutions into the non-magical world as well.  _

_ Dr. Draco Malfoy said in a press release:  _ I am grateful to my wife for building this product with me over the past decade. Our brief foray into the medical field with the creation of the basilisk pox vaccine has led us down a path we never believed possible.

_ Dr Hermione Malfoy contributed in her own press release the following:  _ We are looking forward to making a difference in every world we can reach. We are currently making good progress on a lycanthropy cure and hope to release it within the next year to the public. Everyone, magical and non-magical, deserves to be healthy and feel well.

_ This isn’t the first time these two have appeared in this paper, and it certainly seems that it won’t be the last. We look forward to seeing the progress these two will make. _

  
  


**_Breaking: Masters of Many: Hermione Granger Malfoy and Draco Malfoy Release Lycanthropy Cure_ **

_ Less than a year after their launch of MagiChem, the founders have created a cost-effective cure for lycanthropy.  _

_ Their press release reads:  _ During our childhood, a beloved teacher was forced out of school because of his lycanthropic condition, despite his extreme safety and care in protecting the students. He was rarely able to hold a job due to the discrimination that came with his condition. Now, we’ve been able to cure the condition. It will be provided for free to any that wish to seek it. 

Fenrir Greyback was a menace who turned many good people into occasional monsters. They did not have a choice to become what they did, so we’re giving them their choices back. We hope that we will be able to reach everyone that wants to receive the cure.

_ MagiChem sales have performed well since its inception, but the founders insist that the cost is not the concern. All of the medications are available for the same low price regardless of the condition it is treating or whether it is prescribed or over the counter. The profit goes straight back into funding more research, as well as scholarships for students to non-magical and wizarding universities across the globe to study medicine.  _

  
  


**_Hermione Granger Malfoy and Draco Malfoy Announce the Wedding of Their Daughter Lyra Narcissa Malfoy to Lily Luna Potter, The Daughter of Ginny Weasley Potter and Harry Potter_ **

_ The pair will be wed on the lawns of Potter Manor following their graduations from Harvard University and its magical equivalent. The women have known each other since childhood and look forward to spending the coming years together. _

**_MagiChem Branches Into Fertility Research_ **

_ Perhaps inspired by their daughter and daughter-in-law, the Malfoys have once again worked their magic by enabling couples to have their own babies without the aid of a surrogate. The MagicBaby technology can accept either two eggs, two sperm, or one of each, and gestates the pregnancy in an artificial womb. Dr. Draco Malfoy announced the project:  _ Many parents have longed to have children but were physically unable to have the number they desired. With this technology, children will be able to come into families that were previously inhibited by natural or even magical means. 

_ The technology will come at a much lower cost than many current fertility treatments, and provides a solution for those who are unable to carry a pregnancy at all. Preliminary research shows that the few babies born through this technology have had the same percentage of magical birth as has been typical over the last two centuries. That is, the proportion of magical births to non-magical parents and vice versa has been unchanged. The numbers may shift as more children are born through this technology, but the company says that they plan to make no effort to change whether a child is born with or without magic. When asked, Dr. Draco Malfoy explained:  _ A life without magic is as of much value as one with magic. Both worlds have made incredible progress over the last century, and families are simply grateful that they are able to have children when they wouldn’t have been able to. 

_Some religious groups in the non-magical world_ _are concerned that the Malfoys’ company is “playing God” and doomed to hell. Others in both worlds are concerned that people may try to select for or against certain conditions. Dr Hermione Malfoy responded to both complaints:_ Whether or not one believes in God, it is evident that the children born through the MagicBaby technology have souls and personalities. The experience is no different than using a surrogate mother, without the additional stress of involving another person. As for selecting for conditions, we make a significant effort not to involve selection in any way beyond ensuring that the child will survive healthily for at least the first year of their life. We do not and will not choose to remove an embryo due to the vast majority of physical or mental conditions that a child may have. 

_ Time will tell as to whether this branch of their business stays in business. _

  
  


**_MagiChem’s Founders Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger Malfoy Step Down as Chief Researchers and C.E.Os_ **

_ Reaching their eighties, the Malfoys have left the company they found half a century ago. While they statistically still have a good portion of their life left, people in the non-magical world do not normally live as long as those in the magical world. The company release states that  _ “The Malfoys wish to spend more time together and with their families. They are leaving the company in very capable hands and are looking forward to the directions it may take.”

_ The Malfoys have done many things since they left school—and even before that. Dr. Hermione Granger Malfoy achieved one of the highest numbers of O.W.Ls in Hogwarts history, followed by top N.E.W.Ts scores that were right on the heels of her assistance to Harry Potter in defeating Voldemort. Dr. Draco Malfoy developed an improvement in linking cabinets in his sixth year of Hogwarts. He joined Master Auclair in France in an apprenticeship that led to his development of an anxiolytic that was a foundation of his work at MagiChem. Both Malfoys spent time as professors at Hogwarts, during which time they developed a vaccine for basilisk pox and assisted in the production of a cure for the virus. Eight years later they were able to launch a company that began producing medications for a variety of both magical and non-magical maladies, opened therapist offices across the country, and developed a cure for lycanthropy. The MagiChem company has also provided the technology that hundreds of parents now use to have children when they were unable to do so before.  _

_ The company’s intent has always been to provide quality care at costs everyone can afford. The initial start-up money came primarily from a donation from the Malfoys’ friends the Potters, who have promoted the company from the very beginning. When asked for comment on the stepping down of the Malfoys, Harry Potter said,  _ “We’re grateful for everything that they’ve done with what we gave them, and we hope that they’re able to enjoy retirement.”

_ Happy trails to two of the most brilliant minds our worlds have ever seen. _

* * *

“Draco?”

“Hm?” 

“What time is it?”

“Nine in the morning, my dear.”

“Why on earth are we still in bed?”

“Because Ginny insisted that we would be up and doing things by 7 at the latest because we wouldn’t be able to stand retirement and you wanted to prove her wrong.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Hermione yawned as she nuzzled into his neck. “I live for proving people wrong.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever said anything more true,” Draco laughed. “Did we have plans for today?”

“Besides proving people wrong? I don’t think so. Leo might want us to stop by and see his kids if we have time, but he wasn’t pushy about it. Just gave us an option. It’s still weird to me that we have grandchildren.”

“Dear, we’ve had grandchildren for years now. This is nothing new.”

“It feels new,” she sniffed. She sniffed again. “Is that sausage?”

“I think Eevy is cooking for us. She popped in while you were still asleep and wanted to know what I wanted to eat for breakfast. I told her we wanted to eat as late as possible.”

“I never thought I’d want a house elf,” she said as she stretched. “But we do pay her, and she is fantastic.”

“Letting a toddler who’d just gotten introduced to Pokémon name her probably wasn’t the best choice,” Draco pointed out.

“Oh, like ‘Winky’ is any less ridiculous,” she snorted. “So, shall we act like Jane Austen characters all day today? Sit, read, and occasionally take a turn around the room?”

“Sounds wonderful,” he smiled as he kissed her.


End file.
